


Not What You Might Expect

by gsmaxwell



Category: Glee
Genre: Consent Issues, Dragons, Fairy Tale Parody, M/M, Magic, Witches, Wizards, fairy tale dark parody, fairy tale-esque, hurty angsty kurt, omg the angst, omg the drama, wayback throwback (started 2011), written for kink!meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gsmaxwell/pseuds/gsmaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: </p><p>Kurt Hummel’s life is no fairytale.</p><p>Oh, it may seem like it – locked in a tower on his 16th birthday, told a prince would be coming to rescue him, sure that had happened.</p><p>And yeah sure, a prince had come, defeated the dragon guarding the tower, and freed him.</p><p>But not exactly the prince he had in mind. He was big and wide, instead of Kurt’s preferred type of thin and lithe, he was a numbskull, interested in hunting and fighting, rather than reading or knowledge.</p><p>He was Kurt’s husband, Karofsky.</p><p>(It got out of hand)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What You Might Expect

**Author's Note:**

> You might remember this fic from a while back (or not, I don't know) but I actually, kind of finished it and decided to throw it up here!
> 
> It's dark guys. 
> 
> Really dark at points. 
> 
> But also kind of funny? Or so I'm told. 
> 
> Tread carefully, dear friends, because apparently I really like to hurt people. Virtually. 
> 
> TRIGGERS: Grey-area consent and not so grey-area consent. Anything to do with arranged marriages and a sense of duty overpowering free will.

 

 

**Chapter 1**

 

 

In a land, far, far away, removed the glamour and lights of the coasts, where people danced and sang into the night and married whoever they pleased, there was a tower, tall, stone and vaguely phallic.  
  
To the north was thousands of acres of virgin forest with only deer trails and rivers providing paths through the overgrowth. On the south, the earth was scraped to rock and a long abandoned quarry that had been used to build the stone tower. There were no longer roads or easily passable trails, no other buildings or signs of settlement, and no sounds other than the singing of birds and the babbling of brooks. Most of the living creatures in the forests were small and woodland in nature but even they didn’t venture close to the tower.  
  
Probably because of the dragons.  
  
Prince Kurt Elizabeth Hummel looked gloomily down from the safety of the high tower at the two young dragons currently circling each other in yet another angry face off over the small, scared rabbit that had foolish wandered close enough to get trapped within the magical barrier.  
  
It happened every time there was fresh piece of meat within the barrier. It could be a squirrel, a rabbit, a rabid bear; Puck and Santana were like children fighting over who got the first bite. Or only bite, in this case.  
  
Poor little thing, Kurt sighed and rested his head on his arms as he watched Santana get Puck in a choke hold. Kurt knew he was safe enough. Puck and Santana had been guarding the royal Hummel children for generations now. As long as he stayed out of their way and didn’t step on their tails they would mostly ignore him. It wasn’t perfect but it was tradition. Almost every generation, around their fifteenth birthday, the second child (or third or fourth, or fifth even) were sent off to this tower to wait for a prince or princess brave enough to risk the two dragons.

The prize?

A one way ticket to the altar with whatever Hummel descendant that had been trapped up here so long any offer seemed like winning the lottery.

Kurt gloomily watched as Puck sent out a burst of flame that ignited the sparse grass under Santana’s tail.

And as much as he hated to admit it, because of magical barrier that was forcing him to stay within the small grounds around the narrow tower, he was entertaining the thought of anyone with four healthy limbs and most of their original teeth as an option for a romantic partner much faster than he expected.

“I am not going in there,” he had said on his sixteenth birthday, a week after his father‘s wedding and the adoption of Finn as his now-eldest son. He had been trying to ignore it but he couldn’t misunderstand his father’s heavy look.  
  
“Kurt, son,” his father always looked a little exasperated when they spoke. “I wish you could have a choice. But you know you don’t. I don’t make the rules.”  
  
“You’re the king! All you do is make rules!” Kurt had started to pace the room.  
  
“Not these ones,” Burt had remained sitting but he did look conflicted which Kurt would normally appreciate. “You know, I want the best for you. But with Finn, things are different. He’s older-”  
  
“By two months!”  
  
“And I’m sorry but it’s enough that the council is insisting he take the throne.”  
  
“I’ve been training since childhood to take over the kingdom. Finn can barely tie his shoes unsupervised!”  
  
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to,” he had said and Kurt had believed him because he knew his father. It had been the two of them against the council for a long time now. When the council tried to get Kurt to abandon his custom made clothes (often made from his own hand because the royal tailors didn’t know how to bedazzle if there was a crossbow aimed at their head) for the more sombre royal robes Burt had raised hell. When the council tried to change the heart healthy menus Kurt made for the kitchens to fatty pork Burt stood behind him like an angry dog as Kurt argued against obesity and heart disease. If there was anyone in his kingdom who had his back, it was this man.

However, even Burt had no say in who his second wife would be. She was a remarkable woman and Kurt was relieved to see his father smitten right away but he hadn’t thought about what it would do to his position on the throne.  
  
At least being the heir meant he had some input into his future marriage. Not much, mind you, as his marriage would always be political, but some. He could at least veto old men and anyone with bad skin.  
  
Now he felt like a slab of meat for the taking. And even with only his second-prince status of his modest kingdom being the political gain, at sixteen he was considered quite ripe for whoever wanted to pick that kind of fruit.  
  
“What if he’s got a horrible disease or something?” he had argued angrily to the council. “Or, or, what if he’s a mass murderer. Or-” Kurt paused as the argument came to him and recoiled in horror, “Or what if it’s a girl who wears ruffles out of season?”  
  
“There is no room for leniency,” the head of the council sounded weary. He had probably had this argument several times in his years behind the ordinate table. “You will marry them, as it has been done before. You are lucky, Prince Kurt, to be given such a chance. You will know that the person who saves you truly loves you. They will have fought dragons and travelled a great distance for you because, frankly son,” and the council member raised a slight eyebrow, “you aren’t a great catch.”  
  
“Hey!” Kurt balled his fists but it was his dad sitting at the opposite wall from the council that voiced the protest. “My kid is an awesome catch. Any guy would be lucky to have him!”  
  
“I just mean, sire,” the old man continued, “The dowry that comes with the marriage would be quite small. The most valuable thing would be the political connection with the Hummel kingdom and you know as well as I do we are not as, adventurous,” he said the word sourly, “as other kingdoms of the same size and stature.”  
  
“That’s because we put our tax money in education,” Burt said pointedly. “And our crop growing. And transportation technology. We might not be the richest nation but we can take care of our own.” He looked at Kurt and said seriously, “Be proud of where you come from son.”  
  
Kurt nodded because he was proud of his kingdom. It was just this stupid tradition. He wished it wasn’t so deeply entrenched because he might be reluctant to marry a stranger for political reasons but the right person, the right kingdom-  
  
The political gain and support from a large, wealthy land could surely help out his people. He had long resigned himself that his marriage was going to be argued and discussed over the council table. They had been doing it since he was a child and he had sat in on meeting that talked about everything from foreign taxes to the consummation duties on his wedding night. The thing was, a spouse chosen by the council would be forced over those rigid standards and endless nitpicking. Kurt and his father could fight and manipulate the council so at least Kurt’s best interests, and the best interests for the future of their kingdom, were represented. By waiting in the tower it was an open hunting season for Kurt and anyone with a smidgen of royal blood had a license.  
  
“Just until you’re eighteen,” his father had promised after the session was adjourned. “After you’re eighteen I can convince the council to send you to the coast and there-”  
  
“There I can marry whoever I want,” Kurt had said.  
  
“Your Aunt Mildred had to wait fifteen years before her prince came along,” Burt had said comfortingly. “You just need to hold out for two and I’ll come and get you. I promise.”  
  
So Kurt finally agreed. Not for the council or tradition but because his father looked so horribly guilty. And what was the chance a prince would come all the way out here for him? He had survived six months with only Puck and Santana’s antics for company. He could survive until he was eighteen.  
  
And if someone came along, someone rich, someone kind-  
  
Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it could help out the fashion design program at the university he had wanted to fund.  
  
Puck had gotten out of the hold and he pinned her to the ground in a way that was entirely too sexual for Kurt to be comfortably watching. She bit his neck hard enough for him to bellow and shoot fire accidently this time. One of the remaining straggly trees inside the barrier burst into flames.  
  
The poor rabbit looked like it was going have a heart attack and Kurt pushed away from the window because he was tired of being helpless.  
  
Puck and Santana left him alone as long as he stuck to the vegetable garden and inside the tower so he knew he was risking his livelihood (or at least his hair) sneaking into their clearing. It was a long run down the stairs but when he peeked out the door they were still grunting and fighting (hopefully fighting. Kurt prayed it was fighting noises he was hearing). He darted along the edge of the tower to where the rabbit had pressing itself terrified against the stone. Grimacing at the loss of his jacket, he threw it over the trembling rabbit before it noticed him and bundled it close to his chest.  
  
He almost made it back to the door when Santana flipped Puck and got him in a painful neck-twisting hold, turning his head at the perfect angle to see Kurt’s embarrassing hunched shuffle.  
  
“Hey! What are you doing with that?” Puck’s usually gruff voice was muffled in the dirt. Santana whipped her long neck around to see and her eyes narrowed. Kurt froze.  
  
“With what?” he asked innocently. Both dragons untangled themselves and Kurt felt like this was a very, very bad idea.  
  
“I haven’t eaten one of you Hummel brats yet,” Puck said slowly as they started to advance. “But I wouldn’t turn down a little bite.”  
  
They weren’t particularly large dragons, or so Kurt had been told. Their shoulders were as tall as Kurt’s head when they were on all fours like now and their bodies around the length of a good sized two horse carriage. But their teeth were the length and width of Kurt’s forearm and he didn’t want to test them.  
  
Though they had been trapped here for longer than anyone could remember they were still mostly just teenagers. Kurt had declined to speak with them after the first week when Puck made several offensive comments about his hair then burnt his second-favourite boots to a crisp. He had also been worried about the hooded eyes Santana kept on giving him. It hadn’t been a great loss but he was slowly losing his mind and before today he had been thinking about approaching them again.  
  
But then Puck said things like that and Kurt liked all of his digits, thank you very much.  
  
“Come on, you little leprechaun,” Santana purred a little and Kurt continued his slow, backwards walk with his back pressed against the stone towards the door. “You can’t take away the only food stupid enough to wander in here. Besides you, of course.”

“I resent that statement,” Kurt was sweating a little and dammit, now he was going to break out and his cleansing supplies were not designed to stretch this long! “My hair is nowhere near as curly as a leprechaun!”  
  
“Give it one more summer,” Santana said and Kurt grimaced because she was totally right. His hair was going to frizz after another summer like this and then no one, not even on the coast, would want to marry him.  
  
“Stop stalling, give the snack here and I’ll bite it from your arms!” Puck growled.  
  
“Or,” Kurt corrected and he was almost at the door. “Give the snack or I’ll bite your arms.”  
  
“I meant what I said,” Puck smiled with all his teeth and Kurt felt the handle at his back. He pushed hard with his shoulders and darted into the cool, dark entrance and ran up the stairs as Puck fired a blast through the small arch.  
  
Kurt didn’t breathe until he reached the fourth floor. They could fly but they couldn’t get the wingspan to do it inside of the magical barrier so as long as he was above the fire line he had nothing to worry about.  
  
Either the rabbit had died of a heart attack or it was still stunned because it didn’t kick Kurt like he thought it would as he slowed and continued the long climb to his living quarters.  
  
He didn’t deal with animals very often. They had two modes as far as Kurt was concerned: pooing and slobbering. Both were ill advised around fancy clothes. Kurt had always been overly careful to admire them from afar.  
  
But it might be nice to have a companion. If they were both stuck here anyway they might as well stave off the loneliness (Kurt) and the almost certain possibility of becoming lunch (rabbit). Carefully he put the jacket on the floor and leaned back on his heels.  
  
Finally, Kurt was relieved to see, the fabric started to move as the rabbit seemed to revive. It wiggled in the jacket until there was a pink nose poking out through the collar and finally a small white face. Kurt waited eagerly, only a little upset, as it worked its way out, little claws catching on the embroidery until it was free. It gave one little hop and suddenly Kurt could see why it hadn’t tried to get away.  
  
It didn’t seem to be able to move its hind legs very well. It had a strange shuffling hop that seemed more like a stiff drag but it sniffed the air curiously. It twitched its ears backwards and glanced around until the beady red eyes landed on Kurt.  
  
“Whoa,” the rabbit spoke. “That was intense. Thanks man.”  
  
Kurt blinked, hard, then again, this time counting to three before opening his eyes again.  
  
But the rabbit was still there, ears tilted, a strange smile on its face.  
  
“I’ve gone so crazy I’m imaging this,” Kurt concluded weakly. “Puck and Santana are going to ballroom dance next.”  
  
“Sorry, son,” the rabbit laughed, a hysterical edge to it. “I’m definitely the real deal.”  
  
“Talking rabbits,” Kurt sat down on the ground, remembering at the last minute to brush away any stray dirt. “I told dad I wasn’t cut out for this.”  
  
“I’m not a talking rabbit,” the talking rabbit insisted and did its dragging, hop shuffle to face Kurt and scratched at its nose. “I’m a talking human who happens to be a rabbit. Which was not what I intended on when I took that stupid potion.”  
  
“A human?” Kurt decided if he was going to hallucinate a conversation he might as well enjoy it to the fullest. He had seen many things in his life but never before had he heard of a talking animal.  
  
“Sure!” the rabbit nodded which was a very strange gesture for a rabbit to make. “The name’s Artie. I swear, I don’t normally look like this. I’m chalking it up to a bad batch of wine and poor judgement skills.”  
  
“I’m going to believe you,” Kurt said slowly. “Because I’m currently living alone in a giant stone tower and I’m just desperate enough for this conversation. Why are you a rabbit?”  
  
“Did you ever have a girlfriend?” Artie asked. “And then you ignored your girlfriend because there was this really cool knight tournament going on and you totally got one of the main guy’s autograph? And you would totally get her one too if she asked but she didn’t? And instead she was upset because you stopped spending time with her?”

“Uh.”

“And then she hooked up with one of the other knights who totally has a wicked body and makes you feel horrible about yourself. And then you drank yourself into a stupor? And then you bought a potion from a witch on the side of the road because it was supposed to make you feel better? But instead you were turned into a rabbit with a killer hangover and woke up in the middle of some crazy forest?”

“I’m gay.”  
  
Artie’s ears twitched irritably this time. “Anyway, thank you again, for the save from the dragons, but I really have to get out of here. That guy is still macking on my woman. I thought the magic barrier would mean wizards or something and I’m tight with wizards. I was hoping to find someone to change me back.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Kurt sighed. “There’s no way to get through the barrier.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Artie said with an edge of panic. “I came through it just fine.”  
  
“It’s like a one way door for most creatures. You can get in but you can’t get out. And humans can’t even walk into it. Only people with royal blood can go in and out,” Kurt explained. He felt bad for Artie. He had walked through of his own choice, no matter how coerced it had been. At least he had known the rules. Artie didn’t even have that.  
  
Artie’s red eyes looked him up and down. “Well, you look Royal.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I didn’t make up the magical rules,” Kurt shot back. This conversation was pretty satisfying actually. Any arguments or conversations with Puck and Santana rarely went beyond Puck’s thinly veiled desires to eat Kurt (vaguely sexual) and Santana’s uncontrollable innuendos (overtly sexual). It was kind of nice to talk to someone about something other than his penis for once. “Royal except the Hummel family, happy?”

“What did you do that your family tossed you in here? Should I be worried?”

“You’re a magical talking rabbit,” Kurt said. “I’m the least of your worries.”

Artie’s nose twitched in a way Kurt thought was irritability but also could have just been gas. “At least I’m a magical talking rabbit with a girlfriend.”  
  
Kurt wanted to shot back a witty reply about girlfriends and how they like to joust with most human-shaped boyfriends but bit his tongue instead and said, “I’m waiting for my future spouse. The first person to defeat the dragons and get through the barrier can carry me across it to safety. Then I have to marry them.”  
  
“Have to?” Kurt had never seen a rabbit look disgusted. “But what if he’s, like, ugly or gross or something?”  
  
“I’m trying to not think about that,” Kurt’s gloomy mood returned. It was nice to have someone else voice his outrage. Ha, take that council! It was a stupid tradition! He wasn’t being crazy! All those weeks raging were justified and all those speeches he had written in his head while moping around the tower seemed less like rambles and more like proper legislative changes.

All the practise with the mop as an audience doesn’t seem so stupid now, does it, Backward Angry Face Mirror Kurt!

 Kurt halted that line of thought quickly. Alone. Too long. Snap out of it, he told himself. Focus on the talking rabbit.  
  
“Now, when is Prince Charming going to show up?”

“Could be years,” Kurt replied glumly. “Some people wait decades.”  
  
“Yeah, so, that’s not going to work for me. Do you have any idea the lifespan of a rabbit?”  
  
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Kurt brightened a little. “I’ll be leaving when I’m eighteen either way. Then I’m headed to the coast where people marry whoever they want.”  
  
“That’s wonderful for you,” Artie started to look around the room. “But, again, I’m not staying here.”  
  
“The only other option is being a snack for Puck or Santana,” Kurt shrugged. Artie grumbled and shuffled his away across the room, sniffing at corners periodically as if he could find a magical escape from the magical prison. Kurt watched, his first entertainment for six months, and thought about how depressing his life had become. Finally Artie stopped and sighed. His ears drooped.  
  
“Okay, fine. I suppose I’ll just have to wait it out.”  
  
Kurt grinned.  
  
“What do you do for entertainment around here.”  
  
“Sew,” Kurt gestured to his closet. And the guest room. And the kitchen. And parts of the dining room. “But I ran out of cloth and thread last month. I also stage musicals.”  
  
Artie took a second look around the room. “With who?”

“Mop. And broom sometimes, if he’s not being uppity,” Kurt frowned. “Pot and I have to play the girl parts though.”  
  
“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Artie said sadly.  
  
Kurt and Artie lived in relative peace for the next few weeks. Artie was mostly confined to one floor of the living area unless Kurt carried him (Kurt tried to ask him what had happened once, after they had gotten to know each other better, but it ended in another long tirade of “You know when you-” “No Artie! I don’t fucking know okay! I’m trapped in a fucking tower!”) so their space was limited. They fought a lot but the close quarters combined with the fact Puck and Santana were trying to devise ways to scale the tower meant they were forced to grow on each other rather quickly.  
  
Then one morning after breakfast, when Kurt was re-enacting a Kurt Hummel Original Production called Madonna Murder Mystery for Artie, who by now knew all the songs and sung along with the counterpart, a boy climbed up the stairs, sweaty and red in the face.  
  
“Colonel, I’m appalled by your lack of discretion!” Kurt was in the middle of his line, the chest of his costume dangerous as he tried a different, more dramatic approach. He was going to ask Artie how he felt it contributed to the tension in the scene.  
  
“Prince Kurt?” Artie and Kurt froze at the voice and Kurt turned quickly, knocking a vase down and it shattered on the floor.  
  
For a second, Kurt stared at the vase sadly because it had been perfect for the colour scheme in the room, but that might have been the shock and denial. He had to force himself to look up at the boy framed in the stone archway.  
  
Kurt had tried to not give much thought to an actual rescue. He had his heart set on the coast. But it had been a long six months and he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining brief, small glimpses of his future. When he had let himself imagine what sort of prince (or princess because the tower also didn’t take sexual preference into its goddamn tradition) would come, he always had a stock of images of feelings that went along with the fantasy. He had always thought about someone lithe and wiry. Maybe he would outwit the dragons (admittedly not a difficult task but still respectable) instead of fighting them. He had imagined a dashing smile and finely cut clothes. A strong, warm hand reaching out and clasping Kurt’s. A deep, husky voice reassuring him that the dragons were out cold and they could spend the rest of their lives together.  
  
In the flash of a moment, Kurt realised maybe he had been expecting a romantic getaway with a sexually teasing route back to a modest but happy kingdom, perhaps a few stops along the way in a suitably comfortable tent where they would secretly violate chastity laws in their eagerness to be together. He thought about making musicals together, ruling their kingdoms jointly, giving each other manicures, and romantic candlelit dinners.  
  
This boy, well, didn’t exactly fit into those pictures.  
  
He looked too big for the doorway. He had to hunch a little to keep from banging his crown, lopsided and pressing sticky short bangs to his forehead, against the arch. His clothes looked baggy and a little worn but perhaps that was because he was on a rescue mission, Kurt thought. He had a bloody sword in one hand and Kurt was suddenly a little worried about his dragon guards who, though threatened to eat him and Artie daily, had been staples in his life for a good half of a year.  
  
“Prince Kurt?” the boy said again and his voice wasn’t totally unpleasant, Kurt decided. Maybe he could train him to be a nice duet partner.  
  
“Uh, yes, that’s me,” Kurt suddenly felt self conscious about the corset and hastily went to untie the lacing.  
  
“I thought so,” the boy smiled and stepped fully into the door. He wasn’t so bad, Kurt tried to convince himself. Not his type at all but Kurt could see how someone else could find him attractive. At least he didn’t seem to have any ugly birthmarks on his face and looked like he was born in the same decade as Kurt. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”  
  
“Wait,” Kurt hadn’t expected this to happen so quickly. He looked around, suddenly panicked at leaving all his things. “Right now? I just put on a pot to boil and- what about my clothes?”  
  
“We’ve got to go, now,” the boy (prince, Kurt supposed, because he couldn’t be anything else) gestured towards the door. Kurt started to grab clothes off their hangings and had to drop them to start searching for his canvas bag. “I’ve knocked out the dragons but don’t know how to take their pulse or anything. I tried to behead one of them because how cool would a dragon head be, right?”  
  
Kurt paused, his arms full of silk shirts. “Yeah, right.”

“But their skin is really tough,” the boy sounded disappointed. “Anyway, come on, leave your things. I can buy you new stuff.”  
  
“These are one of a kind,” Kurt said stubbornly, his bag almost full. The boy looked frustrated and he reached out to grab Kurt’s arm. Kurt pulled away and buckled the bag, shooting a sharp look over his shoulder. The boy sighed and shifted from foot to foot impatiently. At least he had some things, Kurt tried to comfort himself. He swung the bag on his back and picked up Artie, silently crouched on the floor. If the boy found it odd he didn’t say anything and Kurt tucked Artie securely in one of his larger pockets he had sown onto his tunic. “Fine, but I insist we came back for the rest later.”  
  
The boy snorted but grabbed Kurt’s wrist with his free hand. It was rough and calloused and Kurt winced at the tight grip as he pulled him out of the door and down the tower steps.  
  
Kurt felt a little like he was dreaming as the prince pulled him quickly past the dragons (they were knocked out, as he had said. Kurt barely managed to see that Puck’s belly was still rising and falling and Santana was bleeding sluggishly from a deep gash on her neck).  
  
Wrist held so tightly Kurt could feel his bones protesting, the boy pulled him through the pink barrier like it was water. There was a tingling rush over his skin and Kurt shivered as he and Artie appeared unscathed on the other side. The grass felt different under his feet and the air fresher. Kurt wanted to pause and just breathe for a minute, maybe feel the sun properly for the first time, see the sky as blue again.  
  
“Come on, my guys are waiting over there,” the boy didn’t let go of Kurt’s wrist and started to pull him over to the edge of the forest. “They wanted to see the fight.”  
  
“Wait, wait,” Kurt dug his heels in to no success. “I don’t even know your name!”  
  
The boy paused at that and looked at him surprised. “We’ve met before. Remember? Like, six years ago. You dad came to see my dad.”  
  
“That was six years ago,” Kurt huffed but was glad the grip was loosening a little. “We did a lot of travelling that year.”  
  
“It’s Dave, Dave Karofsky,” and now Kurt remembered that square face pushing his head into the water trough and throwing his crown in a thorn bush. He also remembered, vaguely, why they had gone to visit that particular kingdom. His father had been hoping for a trade agreement. It was a large and rich kingdom but negotiations had not gone very well. The strangest thing about that visit was waking up one morning and his nanny had already packed his things. When he asked his father about it, the man hadn’t given him a real answer. “When I heard you were- well, you know, I couldn’t just leave you there. Plus, hey, dragons!”

“You hated me,” Kurt managed to pull his hand free, horror dawning on him that now they had to get married. “You kidnapped my dolls and threw them down the well.”  
  
“No I didn’t,” Karofsky turned red. “Did you want to stay there with the dragons? I’m the only one brave enough to fight them you know. You’re not going to get another chance. Come on, my boys probably saw us come down.”  
  
Kurt hiked the bag a little higher on his shoulder and followed him to the trees. This was a nightmare. He hadn’t even considered that Dave Karofsky would be the one to rescue him and now-  
  
Kurt swallowed hard and stumbled over a root as they reach the trees.  
  
Now he was going to have to have sex with him.  
  
His stomach turned. He wondered if it was against tradition to turn and run back into the pink bubble.  
  
But- Kurt hated that his mind could flip through the pros and cons so easily. But this could be a great break for his kingdom, his real kingdom, not this one he was going to get married into. If he could get the political power that his father had wanted back then maybe it would be worth it.  
  
Not far into the woods, they came across the group Karofsky had been talking about. Kurt froze. They were all just as big, or bigger then, as Karofsky in battered, well-worn chain mail and straining leather pants. They had obviously made a long trip through the dense overgrowth and Kurt almost recoiled because they definitely smelled like it. Karofsky almost seemed to forget about him as he dove into the pack with wild cheers and violent looking punches that Kurt assumed were supposed to be congratulatory.  
  
“Dude, I almost thought that black one had you!” one of the knights said. “Too bad you didn’t get that a head though.”  
  
“Yeah, well, we’ve spent a crap load of time out here all ready,” Karofsky shrugged and turned to look at Kurt. Kurt suddenly felt very small as they all turned stared at him. He held the strap of his bag tightly.  
  
It wasn’t that they were unfriendly. Actually, all of them looked vaguely confused. Even Karofsky looked a little lost as to what he was supposed to do with Kurt now. It dawned on Kurt that none of them had thought about what to do with him now that the fight was over. They didn’t just look unwashed and unruly because of a long journey. They seemed a little too comfortable with the layers of trail grim on them and Kurt realised, with a rapidly sinking heart, that rescuing him hadn’t been their goal, not really. It had been the dragons, the adventures, possibly the aggressively homoerotic atmosphere they got from spending all that time adrenaline-seeking the woods.

Marriage. Politics. Kurt felt very small and venerable as he gripped Artie a little closer.  
  
“Are we headed back to the castle now?” Kurt asked a little hesitantly and hated how quiet his voice sounded.  
  
“Uh, I guess so,” Karofsky looked around and they all seemed to agree with half shrugs. “Yeah, I guess we need to have a wedding.”  
  
And then they started to whistle and catcall and slap Karofsky on the back.  
  
“Damn, that sucks,” Artie whispered from his pounce and Kurt suddenly wanted to cry.  
  
Luckily, when Kurt asked, it turned out that the boys (because the oldest was only eighteen and Kurt was reluctant to call them ‘men’) had pitched their tents in a clearing not far from the grove. Kurt had been concerned they were planning on sleeping on the ground and that just did not work for him. No one offered to help him with his heavy bag but that was just as well. He didn’t trust them to not toss it up another tree or in the river they were following. A few of them were eyeing him with curious, strange leers and he wasn’t sure what their intent was. Instead, he struggled along the back of the group, thankful for the stairs in the tower that had hardened his legs but not his arms.  
  
As they reached the clearing, both Kurt and Artie gasped.  
  
Half the camp looked like Kurt had expected it to look. There were embers still smoking in crudely made fire pits. Animal bones were piled and covered in flies. There was a rotting bear head strung up on a pole. The tents were of excellent quality but ill kept and pitched randomly around their camp. There were holes and rips that were only superficially patched and Kurt was pretty sure they would leak in the rain. A few well-bred but unkempt horses were wandering through the camp grazing on patches of grass and it looked as though they had barrelled through some of the tents.  
  
The other half was the polar opposite. There were about a dozen young men milling around several uniform tents placed in a half circle around a well-tended fire pit. Several boys were grooming the hardy looking ponies tethered off to the side. They were all dressed in the same navy garb and there were more clothes strung up to dry between the tents. A few boys were mending clothes by the fire and other cooking while they chatted and laughed. Kurt found himself drifting to the left as they approached the camp.  
  
Several of the boys around the fire looked up as they walked into the clearing and three of them rose to greet them.  
  
“I wonder who they are,” Artie whispered.  
  
“Who cares?” Kurt hissed back. “I’m going to try and snag a spot over there. At least we won’t get fleas.”  
  
“Amen.”  
  
“Welcome back,” one of the approaching boys smiled and Karofsky have a weak wave in return. “Did you manage your hunt successfully?”  
  
“Yeah, we killed the dragons,” one of Karofsky’s boys with close cropped blond hair boasted. “They weren’t even that big though. Kind of a letdown.”

“You didn’t kill them,” Kurt couldn’t help but correct. All the boys turned to look at him like he had forgotten he even existed. Kurt almost shrank back into himself.  
  
“You must be the prince,” one of the boys, the one who hadn’t spoken, stepped forward. He was a little shorter than the other two with curly hair and when he smiled Kurt’s heart jumped a little. “Welcome. I’m Blaine. I’m so glad you’re all right.”  
  
Blaine’s hand was warm and he felt a jolt when they touched. If Blaine felt the same thing he didn’t let on but his hand lingered a little before letting go. “These are my companions, Wes,” he gestured to the boy who had spoken before, “and David. And, of course, the Warblers behind me.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Kurt’s voice was a little breathy and if Karofsky noticed he didn’t say anything. “You’re travelling with David?”  
  
“Just Dave,” Karofsky grunted and little and it sounded like, yes, he had noticed Kurt’s face light up. “Kurt and I are engaged now.”  
  
“Oh,” Blaine didn’t sound shocked but he did take a step back. “Congratulations! We should celebrate.”  
  
“Actually, we were going to start to head back,” Karofsky said and, ew, he had wrapped a sweaty arm around Kurt’s shoulders and tugged him flush against his side, right into his armpit. Kurt wrinkled his nose a little but complied because if he was going to have to have sex with this boy he might as well get used to it. At least at the castle he could convince him to bathe more. “Want to get on with the wedding and all.”  
  
“We’ll start to pack up as well,” Wes said politely. “It was nice meeting you, Prince Kurt.”  
  
Kurt nodded and Wes and David turned to move back to the group. Blaine hesitated before turning to Dave and asked, “Did you figure out where he was going to sleep yet?”  
  
“I was thinking in my tent,” it was obvious that Dave had just thought of that now and several of his own people looked at him frowning.  
  
“Are you sure?” one of them asked. “I mean, you two aren’t even hitched yet. People are gonna think- you know...”  
  
“What?” Karofsky said defensively. “We’re engaged, it’s fine!”  
  
“I don’t know, man,” another one of the boy said. “It’s fine if you pay for it but- I mean, he’s not exactly like that, you know?”  
  
“Yes,” Kurt cut in a little sharply. “I’m not a prostitute, thank you.” But it seemed like he went unheard.  
  
“I can offer again for Kurt to share with us,” Blaine said smoothly. He, at least, seemed to notice Kurt and smiled apologetically. “We have an extra tent for his privacy and we can ensure his,” Blaine paused and grinned, “safe return.”  
  
Great, Kurt could feel the blush on his cheeks. Even the hot, curly haired dream boy made jokes about his virginity.  
  
“He’ll be fine in my tent!” Dave almost yelled and Kurt knew right then and there he had to take a hold of some kind of power in this relationship.  
  
“Actually, Dave,” Kurt said quickly. “I’d prefer it if I could sleep in the extra tent.” Clearly no one had expected him to speak again because they all fell silent eerily fast. “It’s been a lot to adjust to and I’d appreciate some alone time.”  
  
“Ha,” Artie snorted from his pocket but no one commented.  
  
Dave nodded curtly and jerked his head to the side. It appeared to be a signal of sorts because the rest of his boys understood and they moved off to their side of the camp, cheers and loud talk starting up, Kurt already forgotten.  
  
“Come on,” Blaine said and placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder gently. “Let’s find a place for your pack on the horses. And some water for you and your rabbit. You two must be parched. I like your tunic by the way.”  
  
As Kurt quickly found out, the Warblers were a wandering singing group. They had been hired by Dave’s father to perform at the castle and they had crossed Dave’s path several days before.  
  
“We figured, why not travel together,” Blaine explained as they walked side by side. Dave hadn’t spoken to Kurt since they had arrived back at the camp so Kurt found himself following Blaine a little lost at what he should be doing. The Warblers were well used to this type of travel, it seemed, as they had broken camp and packed their ponies in less than an hour. They were travelling down a river bank where the trees grew less thick and were following a wide trail of broken branches and tore earth left by Dave’s group. “We’re simple singers, after all. If we were to run into trouble-”  
  
Blaine paused then said, “Anyway, it’s just easier to travel with free protection. They said they were on a hunting trip and were headed home but Dave wanted to kill those dragons of yours.”  
  
“He told me he liked me though,” Kurt frowned. “Well, sort of. Blaine-” Kurt bit his lip, unsure of how to ask the next question. He was out of practice with polite society. Artie had decided to doze, hidden a little deeper inside Kurt’s pocket when one of Dave’s men mentioned having rabbit for dinner. “You’ve been travelling with Dave for a while right?”  
  
“Three days,” Blaine corrected.  
  
“Okay, three days. What do you think of him?”  
  
Blaine didn’t answer right away. They were leading one of the ponies behind them. Kurt had never really gotten this close to a large animal before but he had to admit, the long ears were kind of cute. When they had stopped so Dave’s men could clear a fallen tree, Kurt had braided several yellow flowers in its forelock. Blaine was toying with one of the petals.  
  
“He’s good to his men,” Blaine said finally. “He really seems to enjoy his life. And he appears to be quite good with his hobbies.”  
  
“Ah,” Kurt said sarcastically. “Great. When I when a need a motivational pick-me-up I’ll be sure to send Dave Karofsky a carrier pigeon. I’m sorry, what I meant was, I have to marry this man; does he shave his back or not?”  
  
Blaine let out a howl of laughter and almost spooked their pony.  
  
If they pushed hard, Dave said it would only take three days to reach the castle and Kurt dragged his feet. They stopped for the night only when their animals looked exhausted and Kurt always made sure his tent was pitched as close to the Warblers’ side as possible. He also snuck off to eat dinner with them after Dave and the boys started to drink.  
  
“So you’re a singing group?” Kurt asked curiously. Artie had been mostly silent the whole trip and Kurt thought he was brooding. They didn’t have much of a chance to talk since Artie suddenly didn’t want his transformation advertised around so many aggressive strangers and Kurt was feeling oddly protective of his friend. But no matter how many times he tried to assure Artie that once the wedding was over and he was established at Karofsky’s court he would have the resources to help change him back, Artie seemed depressed and withdrawn about the subject. So instead Kurt found himself filling his desperate need for conversation with the Warblers, especially Blaine. “I haven’t seen any instruments.”  
  
“It’s not really that economical for a travelling group to carry their utensils on their backs,” Blaine said, grinning like it was a joke and several of the Warblers gathered around the fire laughed. Kurt looked around confused until Blaine coughed and confessed, “We sing without instruments.”  
  
“That’s amazing,” Kurt was honestly a little impressed. He sang without instruments on occasion (he had gotten used to it when the last strings to his lute broke at the first month and he had no choice) but he had never heard of an entire group singing together professionally. “I hope I can hear you sing when we get to the castle.”  
  
“Yes, we probably will,” Blaine said gently and Kurt realised with a jolt that they would be singing at the wedding.  
  
Later that night, as Blaine walked Kurt to his tent, he stopped Kurt with a touch on his elbow. It was dark and the fires had been doused. The Warblers had two men posted on scenery duty in case large animals smelled their camp but they were faced into the darkness. Kurt could all ready hear the snores from the boys passed out on his side of the camp. Artie as well had already turned in. and Kurt could see his white fur as he held the flap open, pausing to hear what Blaine was going to say.  
  
“Look, Kurt, I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable earlier,” Kurt could barely make out his face but he sounded sincere.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Kurt said and it did help that Blaine was apologising. “I think I’ve been alone so long, I’ve started to miss out on social cues.”  
  
“No,” Blaine reassured him. “Not at all. Your cues are lovely.” Kurt was glad Blaine couldn’t see him blushing because he was as good as married right now and blushing at a roaming bard was highly inappropriate, no matter how much Kurt liked the sharp line to his jaw. “And I wanted to tell you,” Blaine leaned in closer, his face still hidden by the night, and his hand found Kurt’s, tangling his fingers and squeezing reassuringly as Kurt felt dizzy and a rush of heat washed over him. He could feel Blaine’s breath on his cheek, his lips a little chapped and brushing again Kurt’s skin. His body was as close, as close as he could get without pressing Kurt against the cloth of the tent, clothes touching, heat lacing up the left side of his body. Kurt couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, because _this was so much better than fingertips_ and he had never felt this way, especially not whenever Karofsky reached for him possessively. He took a shaky breath, smelling the clean, boy smell of Blaine, musky with sweat from the heat of the fire and all memories of Karofsky were dashed from his mind until Blaine said, “I don’t much care for your fiancé.”  
  
Blaine pulled away quickly, leaving Kurt’s hand clammy, and it was like the heat disappeared in a vacuum of air leaving Kurt cold and exposed, the tent flap still open and clutched in his hand.  


 

 

**Chapter 2**

  
  
Even though Kurt was walking as slowly as he could, even feigning a sprained ankle one day, they still reached Karofsky’s home in good time. Blaine had fussed over Kurt, shifting bags and weight around the group until Kurt could ride on top of one of the Warbler ponies. Kurt had almost balked at the idea but Blaine insisted on walking beside him, a hand resting on his thigh to help him keep his balance. Though the lie didn’t slow them down, Kurt didn’t regret doing it.  
  
As they approached the palace, the memories from his childhood visit came back to him. From the distance, it looked like it hadn’t changed much in the six years since he had last been here. The castle was white and impressive. It was set on a cliff by the coast with the town spilling down to a rather large seaside harbour. It was easily twice the size of the palace Kurt had grown up in. They approached it from the beach, having followed the river all the way to where it led into the sea. Karofsky had taken care to polish his crown a little and climb on his horse now that they were within sight of the villagers. He had ordered them to cross the river instead of taking the time to reach the bridge so the worst of the grime was off of their horses. The Warblers had gone along quietly but the shorter ponies meant their supplies were soaked through and the boys looked thoroughly soggy themselves. The sand from the beach was sticking to their boots in thick, heavy clumps and Kurt saw more than a few looks of irritation aimed at Karofsky’s back. That surprised Kurt a little but he was too upset and worried about his own wet canvas bag to think too much about it.  
  
The town started to grow from temporary huts for the land bound clamshell gatherers to more solid looking trading markets. Residential homes grew more crowded and started to look thrown on top of each other. Karofsky insisted Kurt’s pony walk along beside his horse. Kurt wasn’t sure why. People stopped what they were doing to stare at them but no one looked openly hostile. If it was for protection then Karofsky was doing a poor job because he was distracted trying to knock one of his man off his horse with playful shoving. Blaine walked unnoticed beside Kurt, still holding the reins.  
  
“It looks so-“ Kurt frowned as they passed a group of dusty, barefoot children staring at them with wide eyes. The people didn’t look impoverished exactly but as they walked along the lower streets of the town there was an obvious gap between the shining white marble castle towering above them and the unswept cobbled lower streets.  
  
There were places like this back home, Kurt knew, and his father made a point to visit them as often as they could. But there were no children as skinny as the ones he saw, nor did so many people come out to see the procession. Normally, people living in these sectioned parts of the city were the busiest of the citizens and no one had time to stop and talk to the king. Kurt had often found himself drafted into mending with wives or playing with babies while his father sat down their husbands and parents. It wasn’t his favourite job (the mending was quite fun but one time a baby vomited all over his green and gold knitted sweater and he almost cried harder than the child) but he had never felt so uncomfortable as he felt here. Here it seemed everyone made time to come out and watch blank-faced as they marched on by.  
  
Artie had been shifted to ride in a sling one of the Warblers had fashioned for Kurt when they had noticed Kurt carrying to rabbit in his arms all day. Artie wasn’t exactly small and only one of Kurt’s shirts had pockets big enough to hold him. Kurt just couldn’t wear the same shirt three days in a row so he had been lugging Artie around, muttering darkly about how many carrots Artie had eaten. He had been grateful for the plain sling but he had donned it reluctantly because he really had nothing to go with that shade of navy.  
  
“Looks pretty normal to me,” Artie whispered from his spot. “People come out to gawk at the royalty all the time back home. I remember one time there was a cat or something and one of the horses spooked and the guy totally landed on his face. Blood everywhere! I caught the crown. Best day of my life.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks for support and loyalty,” Kurt muttered sarcastically. “What did Karofsky say about rabbit for the wedding dinner?”  
  
“Did you say something?” Blaine glanced up from where he was walking just ahead of the pony’s shoulder and Kurt smiled weakly.  
  
“Oh, nothing, just excited for the wedding!”  
  
“That’s-” Blaine looked a little confused but he forced a smile on his face and said, “That’s great! I’m happy for the two of you.”  
  
Shit. Kurt hadn’t meant to say that. He kind of wanted to dump Artie and kick the fluffball around a little.  
  
“I mean-”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Dave spoke to Kurt for the first time since they entered the city. Kurt hadn’t even realised the boy was even listening. “I sent word ahead. Father is probably preparing everything now.”  
  
“Fantastic,” Kurt said. Blaine reached over and gave his leg a reassuring squeeze.  
  
“Warbler, pass me the lead,” Karofsky said suddenly and Blaine looked surprised. Reluctantly, they paused the horses and Blaine passed the leather rein up so Karofsky could take it in his free hand. Karofsky’s horse hadn’t liked the crowds to begin with and Kurt’s pony looked annoyed at being forced closer. “You should see to your men.”  
  
“Actually, Wes is in charge-”  
  
There was a hard silence and the rest of their procession realised they had stopped and turned to look curiously. Blaine had met Karofsky’s eyes and looked angry before dropping his gaze to the dirt. “Yes, sire.”  
  
Kurt wanted to reach out and grab Blaine as he moved to the back but Karofsky had tugged their horses forward again and shot another glance at Kurt before saying, “I can’t tell those guys apart anyway.”  
  
As they climbed the cliff, Kurt could see the houses and buildings growing larger and larger. They were built of out more exotic woods and stones and the people seemed to grow fatter and fatter. Some started to wave as they passed the houses and shops but most people watched with more curiosity. It was like the higher they got the happier people came and Kurt would have been annoyed at the obvious economic allegory but it was disturbing to him on a level he couldn’t describe.  
  
The only anomaly was at one of the houses near to the castle gates. There was a blond girl standing on a balcony of a large, three story house made of similar marble to the castle. By now, the people had grown cheerful enough that they had been greeted with smiles but this girl stood on the marble porch, her hands gripping the rail tightly as she watched them pass. She was frowning and had that same blank look Kurt had been in the lower city. He couldn’t help but stare though he couldn't make out her face clearly before she noticed him looking. She glared at him like he was a voyeur or something and he quickly looked away.  
  
They went through the city gates and- whoa. Dave hadn’t been kidding when he said his father had probably started things.  
  
The grounds inside the gates were covered with activity. Food stands were being set up off to the side Kurt could see an arch of roses being erected. There was a banner strung up on the castle wall reading “Congratulations Prince Dave!” There were gardeners frantically tending flower beds and others measuring the height of the grass. There was so much activity everywhere it looked like not a single inch of the palace courtyard was going untended.  
  
But they all moved quickly out of Karofsky’s way, like the ocean parting for a ship.  
  
The stone path up to the castle doors was being swept clean as their horses clattered down it. Kurt felt a little bad as they left a trail of dust and mud. They went to the stable first and all of Dave’s men passed their horses off to stable hands as soon as they dismounted. They went off without so much as a thank you.  
  
Kurt slide off the pony and winced at his sore muscles. Artie squirmed as Kurt readjusted the sling and suddenly Blaine was at his elbow, taking the reins from Kurt that Dave had unceremoniously dropped when he dismounted.  
  
“Thank you,” Kurt said and Blaine grinned back. “For the pony. I think my legs are going to be numb for a week but, thank you.”  
  
“It was our pleasure,” Blaine said and Kurt couldn’t help but actually believe it. Wes approached them holding Kurt’s nearly dry pack and Kurt took it with a sigh. He almost missed the silent looked between the two Warblers but if he had to guess how the interpretive eyebrow conversation went, it went something like:  
  
“ _What are you doing?”_ _  
  
“Just give me five minutes.”  
  
“Five minutes to do what? Make out in front of the stable hands?”  
  
“Shut up! Seriously, just one minute.”  
  
“Fine, but give me that horse. I’m not letting you scar the animals.”_  
  
Blaine passed over the reins and Wes bowed politely to Kurt.  
  
“Congratulations again, on your engagement, Prince Kurt,” Wes gave a pointed look at Blaine. “I hope to see you around.”  
  
Blaine turned back to Kurt, smiling brightly, and opened his mouth to speak but whatever poor imitation of privacy they had in a stable yard was broken as Karofsky strode back onto the dirt grounds.  
  
“Kurt!” he called and looked suspiciously at Blaine. Blaine dropped the hand he had been raising with a clenched fist. “Come on, my dad wants to meet you.”  
  
“Coming, Karofsky,” Kurt grit his teeth, frustrated because- why? Because his future husband was blocking- what exactly? Blaine looked sad, the corners of his mouth tugged down in a rare frown and his eyes were narrowed in Karofsky’s direction. Kurt’s fingers were itching to do more but all he could do was say, “Bye, Blaine. Thank you again,” and their eyes met with resignation.  
  
“I’ll see you around,” Blaine said with sad wave and Kurt hiked the bag further up his shoulder trying to not jostle Artie.  
  
He grumbled as he approached Karofsky who was tapping his foot impatiently. He could feel Blaine watching him and the whole things just made him angrier. “I’m here, I’m coming, let’s just go.”  
  
“Are you bringing that? We are going to be meeting my father now, you know,” Karofsky raised an eyebrow at Artie who shrank a little and tried to hide. Kurt frowned. Karofsky was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when Kurt met him. He smelled like sweat and dirt and death. His hair was a touch too long and greasy. The crown on his head was bent in places and missing a few jewels. Kurt, on the other hand had planned on a royal meeting today. He had on a very stylish gold embroidered scarlet tunic and his tailor pants had been spotless before their run through the river. His own crown which he had dug out earlier was spotless and pristine, if a little smaller then Dave’s. A white rabbit tucked securely to his chest seemed like a mild thing to be concerned about.  
  
Kurt hated how Karofsky was looking at him, like he was smaller than he actually was and he had done something naughty.  
  
“Well, what do you expect me to do with him?” Kurt snapped and hugged Artie a little protectively to his chest.  
  
“There’s a rabbitry over there,” Dave gestured wildly in a direction where Kurt could see the smoke stacks of the kitchens. “They know what to do about rabbits.”  
  
“Yeah, eat them!” Artie protested loudly and Kurt covered his mouth quickly.  
  
“Yeah, eat them!” Kurt was sweating a little as Karofsky narrowed his eyes at Artie. “They eat them! That’s what they do! I simply cannot let Artie be eaten!”  
  
“It’s just a rabbit,” Karofsky frowned. “I’ll get you another one. A better one. One that hops. Rabbits should hop. That’s cute, right?”  
  
Artie spewed curses under Kurt’s hand but fortunately they were muffled. “I’m not letting my rabbit get eaten. It’ll be fine. Let’s just go.”  
  
“No,” Karofsky was digging in and this had the makings to be their first real fight.  
  
Kurt was going to say something he was sure would end badly but suddenly Blaine was standing at his side with his arms out and a friendly, placid smile. “I’d be happy to look after Artie for you.”  
  
Both the princes froze but Blaine stood quietly. “Kurt, please don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”  
  
Kurt looked at Blaine then glanced down at Artie who had quieted under his hand. Artie gave a quick nod and Kurt let go of his mouth so he could start to untangle himself from the sling. Blaine reached out to help but Karofsky batted his hands away with a glare and caught Kurt’s crown with the cloth as he yanked it over his head.  
  
Blaine managed to catch the crown before it could fall and there was some awkward juggling as Artie, the sling and the crown were passed between three sets of hands. Finally, Blaine had Artie in his arms, the sling loose over his shoulder and Kurt was setting his crown back on his head, wishing for a mirror so he could check his hair.  
  
“I’ll see you later,” Blaine said again but this time there was an echo of a promise and though Kurt was worried about his friend, he trusted Blaine more than he trusted the rabbitry.  
  
“Don’t worry Artie!” Kurt said loudly and patted Artie on the head. He looked like he was going to bite Kurt’s hand off. “I’ll be back for you!”  
  
Karofsky grabbed Kurt’s elbow and pulled him, nearly sending his bag to the ground again.  
  
Kurt didn’t know why Karofsky had even worried about his appearance. The king barely gave him a look over before launching into an animated discussion about the dragon fight with Karofsky. Kurt felt shuffled off to the side, holding his bag and out of place in the large hall as the father and son mock wrestled and Dave re-enacted how he got Puck in a choke hold.  
  
“Excuse me,” Kurt finally turned to one of the servants standing along the wall looking bored. The boy jumped to attention guiltily. “I was wondering where I can put my bag.”  
  
That seemed to get the attention of the pair and Karofsky reluctantly let his father out of the hold. “Right, sorry about that. Dave, show Clark-”  
  
“Kurt,” Kurt corrected sourly but neither man took notice.  
  
“- to your chambers. We’re all set to go with the ceremony in an hour or so, so make sure you slap some cologne on or something.”  
  
“An hour?” Kurt hated how high his voice got. “But- what about- my father isn’t even here!”  
  
“That doesn’t matter,” Dave’s father waved the words away like they were annoying flies. “My David rescued you so that’s what counts right?”  
  
“But-”  
  
“An hour,” Dave’s father said a little more strongly and looked at Dave a little reproachfully. “Wedding, then dinner, then you two can settle in for the night.”  
  
Kurt felt his stomach turn. He hadn’t realised it would happen so soon. But Dave didn’t seem to notice how pale he had gotten. Instead, he stomped over to Kurt and yanked at his bag causing Kurt to drop it to the floor with a loud thump. “Take these up to the room,” he ordered the servant boy still standing nervously off to the side. “Come on.”  
  
Kurt was really tired of being manhandled but he waited until they were out of earshot of the grand hall to argue.  
  
“Let go of me!” he pulled himself out of Dave’s grip and fortunately the other boy was startled enough that Kurt pulled out of his hands yet again. They were alone in the corridor which was good because Kurt was about to give Dave an earful. “I’m not a child, you can’t just drag me around where you want me to go! I’m a prince, the same as you, and I think I deserve a little respect!”  
  
“Respect?” Karofsky scowled. “Like what you showed to my father?”  
  
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want my father here on my wedding day!” Kurt bit back. “What exactly is your father’s hurry?” Their words were echoing in the corridor and large paintings of Karofskys past looked down on them as if they were disapproving of all the noise. Dave’s face was just as harsh as theirs and, like a bucket of ice poured down his back, Kurt realised just how little time he had spent with Karofsky and how much he didn’t know about the boy. It was dark here, the torches not all lit up and Kurt couldn’t see either end of the corridor very clearly.  
  
He kept himself tense and fists balled as Dave stepped towards him, one hand raised in an angry fist, jabbing a finger close to his face. “I rescued you, not the other way around! I get to call the shots because I risked my life!”  
  
“I didn’t ask to be rescued!” Kurt shouted back and tried to stand his ground but he was shaking a little inside. “You just stormed in and tried to kill my dragons but I had a plan-”  
  
And suddenly there were large, hot and sweaty palms on his face and a tongue wormed in his mouth, pushing past his lips, wet and slimy and foul tasting. Kurt reared back, hitting his head on a dusty, velvet tapestry covering the stone wall. Karofsky followed him, holding his head in place as he kissed him again, pressing his head painfully against the velvet, pressing his body hard on Kurt’s, too hot, much too hot. Kurt brought his hands up sluggishly to push him away but suddenly Karofsky had pulled away from his mouth. His hands stayed on Kurt’s face, like hot pokers burning into his skin and Kurt wanted to push him away as he rested heavily on Kurt’s body, not an inch of space between their hips and chest.  
  
But he couldn’t-, he thought dizzily as his ears rung and his head throbbing now. Because this was every nightmare he had worried and fretted about since he was a child and knew what sex was and what the tower meant. He had pushed it away because the tower wasn’t supposed to be for him but he had six long months in there to think about a million different scenarios and how he would react.  
  
He had imagined himself taking this kind of harsh treatment gracefully, for the sake of his kingdom. He could be brave, a romantic martyr. He knew so many people in his kingdom, from the upper to the lower class, who married people other than their soul mates for the sake of their families and he had seen how bravely they dealt with it with soft smiles and “You know how it is. Feelings take time to grow.” He had thought about himself saying that, standing strong as he gave important speeches and helped pass live saving bills, as his people understood and appreciated the sacrifices he was making for their lives.  
  
He hadn’t thought about the smell. The shaking in his knees. The stray spit in his mouth that felt like acid burning. The ragged breath over his cheek, hot and sour. He hadn’t thought about the fear that had seized his stomach, clenching it so tight he was certain he was going to vomit except his throat was tight and he couldn’t breath.  
  
Karofsky was larger than him and his body covered Kurt’s entirely. Kurt was certain if anyone walked down the hallway they wouldn’t even be able to see him pressed against the red velvet. He wanted to push Karofsky away but there was no point, he realised. There was no Burt Hummel to save him, he had been foolish to think that way. No guard was going to come and rescue him because no one paid them to protect him. He was one small, insignificant person here, pressed against the wall, bracketed in Karofsky’s hands and knees, and he felt cold, trembling, despite the stuffy heat threatening to rob his breath.  
  
“God, you’re so hot when you’re all worked up,” Karofsky whispered. “I’ve wanted to do that the whole trip.”  
  
Kurt was silent. He couldn’t find words.  
  
“I’ll give you anything you want,” Karofsky said. “Anything, name it and it’s yours.”  
  
Kurt nodded dumbly.  
  
“I’ve got to go,” he said and pulled away, a draft of cold air racing between them and Kurt had never felt so relieved to be so cold. “The room is at the end and up the stairs. Someone will take you there. Stay there,” his voice was almost playful and Kurt wanted to pull the ugly tapestry over his head. “Until someone comes to get you.”  
  
His footsteps echoed as he walked away and Kurt sank to the stone ground, letting the velvet fold over his shoulders a little as he gripped the tops of his riding boots tight, trying to keep the tears from falling.  
  
This was what he had wanted, right? This was supposed to help his kingdom. Karofsky was rich, he would give him what he wanted and his people could get a proper education, food in their bellies, and protection from attacking nations. He could have run back into the tower, he told himself, or escaped a dozen times during their walk. It wasn’t as if he had been under guard. He could have run off to the coast, disappeared in the crowds and married whoever he wanted to. He could have done it but he didn’t. It was too late for second guessing, even though he wanted to peel all his skin off.  
  
He could do this, he said to himself. He could do this because it was about something bigger than just his self.  
  
He pushed himself off the wall, wrinkling his nose as it sent more dust into the air. His crown had become lopsided so he fixed it slowly. The paintings were still there, creepy, and Kurt shivered before turning on his heel to walk in the opposite direction Karofsky had gone. He could feel their eyes following him as he hurried up the stairs.  
  
The room was where Karofsky had said it was, and the blond servant from before was kneeling with his big, making an unpleasant face as he pulled out the wrinkled and damp clothes.  
  
“What?” Kurt didn’t mean to snap. “Something not to your taste?”  
  
“No!” the boy jumped to his feet and almost tripped over the bag. “It’s perfect. Beautiful even! I really like the- um- shiny thread things.”  
  
“Good,” Kurt wanted to change now and burn his tunic but he could see that all his belongings were still unwearable. “Can you help me hang them up? I’ll probably need to talk to the head launderer about them.”  
  
The boy, who couldn’t have been older than Kurt, moved quickly to the large wardrobe sitting along the wall. “Uh, they moved this one here for you. The prince’s clothes are kept in the tailors.”  
  
Kurt was almost insulted they thought he would make due with just one small wardrobe but that was quickly followed by the realization that this was Dave’s room and that probably meant he would not have a room to call his own.  
  
The two of them make quick work and Kurt mourned each wrinkle and pulled thread. They smelled like river water as well so Kurt had them hang around the room so they could dry easily and hopefully it would keep the smell from lingering.  
  
“I didn’t expect to get married in this,” Kurt said glumly as they finished. The boy, Sam as he had told Kurt, eyed the tunic.  
  
“It looks nice to me,” Sam said and Kurt gave him an annoyed looked. “Did you want to freshen up before the ceremony? I can bring you to the baths.”  
  
“That would be lovely,” Kurt said. “And the tailors, if it’s not too much trouble? I pulled a seam earlier I think and I need some thread to mend it.  
  
Sam left Kurt to soak in the bath, a natural hot spring just down the stairs and carved into the mountain. He had stepped in dubious at the beginning because the water wasn’t the clear spring water he was used to back home, heated by servants in a fire and always too cold anyway by the time the tub was full, but he quickly lost his misgivings. The heat sunk into his bones and he felt warm for the first time in ages. He could almost feel his pores opening up and whatever minerals were in the water made his skin tingle. He sunk up to his nose and wondered if maybe he could convince the magic-workers at the castle to look into searching for natural hot spring back home.  
  
No- he stopped that thought before it could fully form. This was home now, he told himself sternly. He would have to try and duplicate it because he could come here, everyday all day. It would be heavenly. The last thought rang false in his head, even as his body loosened and relaxed in the heat.  
  
He didn’t have much time and it seemed the tailor was of a like mind. He had only been soaking in the baths for a few minutes, letting minerals repair his travel damaged skin and aching muscles, when the heavy doors opened. Kurt jumped a little before seeing it was Sam followed by a short, dark woman holding his red tunic and making disapproving noises with her tongue.  
  
“What did you do to this?” she glared at him and Kurt had to stop himself from pulled a towel over his lap. He was royalty for heaven’s sake! The Hummel family had given him nothing to be ashamed about and it wasn’t like he was the one barging in while people were all bathing and naked and- “Toss it off a mountain? Let a herd of wild dogs play with it?”  
  
“Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice!” Kurt shot back completely confused. “You try being dragged across a giant forest and see how well your seams hold up!”  
  
“You were going to wear this to the wedding?” she ignored him.  
  
“Unfortunately.”  
  
She looked away from the cloth and gave him an appraising look. Kurt quickly covered himself with his hands, dignity be damned, and she smiled. “Never mind, I have just the thing for you. Hurry up pretty boy, I need to get you pinned and fitted if you want to look halfway decent.”  
  
Kurt only had a quarter of an hour to bond with the assistant tailor, Mercedes, but it was enough that he felt like he had known her for a lifetime.  
  
She had brought up a white and ivory ensemble that Kurt gasped and clutched in his fingers, amazing that the colour scheme worked. He praised her embroidery and she preened, touching the clothes strung around the room with just the right amount of awe and glee that Kurt thought they deserved, river water and all aside. She pinned the outfit expertly to his body, slapping him on his ribs if he moved too much, excited for conversation with an enthusiastic participant.  
  
“You should convince him to let us go to Carmel for the fall line,” Mercedes said around a mouth fill of pins as she quickly pinched fabric in the right spot. “I hear they are doing draping.”  
  
Kurt opened his mouth to respond but there was an echoing _I’ll give you anything you want_ so instead he said, “I want to start a fashion program at our university. What do you think about animal patterns this season?”  
  
“Do you even have to ask?” she grinned slyly and they shared a jubilant high five.  
  
Mercedes and Kurt worked quickly on the clothes, Kurt taking the pants and Mercedes the jacket, after he had taken them off. It was too easy, to sit here on Karofsky’s bed in his long pants and undershirt chatting with Mercedes as Sam puttered around in the background, sewing up his wedding clothes. It was like the ugliness of the corridor was far away and, in the light, happy room Kurt had almost convinced himself that it hadn’t happened. The excitement over the new outfit only grew when he tried it on after the adjustments. However, almost as soon as they had deemed it perfect a guard came to escort him down to hall. Mercedes gave him a strong squeeze on the shoulder before she too had to leave.  
  
It wasn’t what he planned for his wedding. There were too many unfamiliar faces, for starters. The decorations were too gaudy. And there were stuffed, dead animals around the hall which Kurt thought was grotesque. He was almost happy his father wasn’t here (though he thought it was more his father’s taste than his) because his father would be able to tell in an instant that he was unhappy. He had already started off on a bad foot here and if the bath and bonding time with Mercedes had taught him anything, it was that he could find happiness if he just looked hard enough.  
  
Plus, he thought anxiously, maybe if he was just a little calmer or more mellow Karofsky would lose interest in him.  
  
“You look unhappy,” there was a voice in his ear and Kurt jumped so high he kneed his guard in the stomach and the poor man almost fell over winded.  
  
“I am so sorry!” Kurt blurted out and he tried to help the guard back to his feet as he panted. “Are you all right?”  
  
“That was my fault,” Blaine, looking upset, was on the other side of the guard. Their efforts were clumsy and the guard waved them off, muttering darkly about getting water as he hobbled away clutching his ribs. Blaine looked at Kurt anxiously. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”  
  
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Kurt reassured him and he suddenly couldn’t feel bad about the guard because he couldn’t stop smiling. “You look-”  
  
Blaine looked the same, obviously. It hadn’t been very long since they had said good bye but it felt like a lot of time had passed. He was dressed in dry clothes though and Artie was no where to be seen.  
  
“Is Artie-”  
  
“He’s fine,” Blaine reassured him quickly. “I left him with Jeff and Nick. We found lodgings in the lower city and they decided to stay there and rest up.”  
  
“In the lower city?” Kurt asked confused. “I thought, with the wedding and with the king you would be staying here.”  
  
“Yeah,” and Blaine rubbed the back of his neck before smiling sheepishly. “The king sort of,” he hesitated before saying, “He unhired us.”  
  
“Oh,” Kurt was surprised. “Was it because of me?”  
  
“No, no, no,” Blaine tried to reassure him but he was a bad liar. It was getting harder and harder to find the happy place.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kurt apologised but he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for because, well, nothing had happened.  
  
“It wasn’t you, Kurt,” Blaine said firmly but Kurt knew it so totally was. “And don’t worry about us, Wes found us another gig right away.”  
  
“Still-”  
  
“So, are you excited?” Blaine seemed eager to change the subject. “You look gorgeous by the way. Is that gold spun into the ivory?”  
  
“Blaine-”  
  
“Kurt!” Sam was at his side, anxious as always. “Prince Dave sent me to get you, they are getting ready to start.”  
  
“I’ll see you after,” Blaine said quickly before Kurt could respond and he left with a bounce in his step. Kurt sighed, frustrated because he missed Blaine all ready, and turned to follow Sam.  
  
The ceremony was short, quick and to the point. Kurt was surprised because he had been expecting more pomp and fanfare. He had been to plenty of weddings before, including his father’s which he had spent months planning down to the last glitter-filled dove. This just seemed empty. There was supposed to be a feeling that washing over him as they leaned in to kiss. Karofsky was supposed to turn from beast to man, or something, and Kurt didn’t realise that he had been assuming the magic of the wedding kiss was as real as the tower.  
  
When Karofsky leaned in to kiss him with his hands chastely on his waist, Kurt couldn’t help but recoil a little. Thankfully, Karofsky had done more then slap colonge on and Kurt could smell soap and mint which helped to distance this from the corridor. However, his lips were dry on Kurt’s and he was breathing too hard through his nose. Kurt didn’t know what to do with his own hands so he left them uselessly at his side while Karofsky stayed frozen on his lips while everyone cheered.  
  
It was over quickly and Kurt took a step away as soon as he could. He looked out into the crowd and saw Mercedes hovering around the back with Sam. She gave him a thumbs which he was grateful for. But he looked harder and still didn’t see Blaine.  
  
It was nearly dinner time anyway and, though there was a large feast for the public outside, the royal private party was held in a grand hall. It was nearly all men. The boys Kurt had travelled with were sitting around Karofsky. The king was at the head of the table steadily drinking himself merrier and merrier until he turned red and kissed his giggling, tipsy wife.  
  
Kurt had been seated with the few ladies of the court and he was torn between being insulted because clearly the woman’s lib movement wasn’t as progressive here and it was a pretty clear message about what the royal family thought of him or relieved because he didn’t have to watch Karofsky have a boar leg eating contest.  
  
“I still think Carmel’s pink line has an edge,” one lady was saying primly and Kurt wanted to comment because, hello, had she even see St. James’s bubblegum atrocity? He wouldn’t have let a six year old wear it let along a fully grown woman. “What do you think, Quinn?”  
  
There were only half a dozen ladies present and Kurt was fairly certain they were used to be shuffled off into the corner like this. Their seats felt like hard won territories and when Kurt had sat in the wrong one he had felt like he had murdered a child. He moved and quickly found his seat through a tense game of outraged gasps when he hovered over the wrong chair until he found the right one for him.  
  
Next time he got married, he thought bitterly, he was going to make sure they used name cards.  
  
Quinn seemed to be the leader of the group though and Kurt was the most curious about her. She didn’t seem to react when he had been trying to sit down and enjoy his own wedding feast, thank you very much, and that had quickly endeared her to him.  
  
However, it was glaringly obvious that Quinn had no warm feelings towards him.  
  
“Seriously, have you see that bubblegum disaster he called a ballgown?” Quinn shot back. “Also, are we seriously going to talk about this again? Surely we have more important issues at hand.”  
  
“You are absolutely right!” the woman clapped her fingers together excitedly. “Prince Kurt, I do love your jacket. Where ever did you find it?”  
  
“A Jones original,” Kurt said, happy that someone acknowledged it. He was more than happy to keep the conversation light and on fashion while he drank his fourth glass of wine because the longer the party ran the longer he could avoid returning to the bedroom. “Gorgeous, right?”  
  
“Jones,” the woman said thoughtfully and reached out to touch the raised embroidery. “I’ve never heard of them. Are they from across the sea?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Kurt said and took another deep gulp. Quinn rolled her eyes but reached for her own glass as well.  
  
Kurt lost track of the number of times a servant came to fill his wine. He was certain he was becoming obnoxiously drunk. Quinn especially gave him dark, rude looks and he really wanted to pull her aside and apologise for whatever it was that he did because she had really pretty cheekbones and Kurt was dying to see if she could finally be the person to pull off his canary yellow boned vest.  
  
It wasn’t exactly his fault though. He kept on thinking about what was going to happen when his glass was empty and he just called for more and more because wine was courage right? That’s what everyone said. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t going to go through with tonight. He was determined to. He had a steady mantra of I can do this, I can do this, I can do this and he was pretty sure he was starting to chant it out loud. Actually, he was more than sure he was chanting it out loud because the last time he had started it up in his head the men at the next table chimed in as he downed his latest glass and he finished to applause.  
  
He had gotten so drunk, in fact, he grinned happy when Sam finally came up to him and said, “Uh, Prince Kurt, your presence is requested in the royal, uh, bed chamber.”  
  
Some of the ladies giggled and Kurt almost fell when he tried to stand. “Really?” Kurt knew he was slurring a bit. “Who requests me then?”  
  
“Prince Dave, I believe,” Sam was obviously embarrassed and Kurt couldn’t help but touch his cheek with a finger, mesmerised as the skin bounced. He turned and poked Sam in the chest because he had been wanting to see if it would bounce as well but all it did was make the boy yelp and flush more. “Prince Kurt, he seemed to be impatient.”  
  
“Let’s not keep him waiting then!” he spun on his heel and Sam had to catch him before he fell. “Ladies! It’s been lovely but it’s my wedding night and-” suddenly Kurt felt sick and he clapped a hand over his mouth. He looked frantically to poor, poor Sam who just looked confused. Most of the woman seemed to recognised what was happening with dawning horror and leapt away from the table clutching their skirts.  
  
Poor, poor Sam.  
  
A second guard had to help Kurt up to the wedding chambers while poor, poor Sam (Kurt was going to see if he could officially change his name. When he addressed his apology letter he wanted to make sure he could use capitals. _Dear, Poor, Poor Sam. I’m truly sorry for vomiting on your shoes. However, they were hideous and made of low quality leather. I think you might want to replace your shirt as well. I believe there was some blow back. Sincerely, Prince Kurt Elizabeth Hummel-Karofsky_ ) went to clean up.  
  
He had manage to get a wet cloth before they reached the room and Kurt cleaned out his mouth, disgusted by the wine but thankful for the bravery. The guard left him when they reached the door with a leering eyebrow wiggle Kurt couldn’t help but glare at. He took a deep breath and opened the door.  
  
Karofsky was in there all ready, seated at a desk along the far wall and was frowning at some papers. He jumped when Kurt opened the door but smiled nervously.  
  
“Hey,” Karofsky said and Kurt could hear that he was drunk as well. Good, Kurt thought. Maybe they could skip this whole step. But Karofsky stood and even though he wobbled a bit, he didn’t look drunk enough to call this off and Kurt carefully closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood as Karofsky reached him. He was standing very close to Kurt and Kurt couldn’t help but notice everything else in the room as he avoided looking at his face: the clothes had been taken down at some point, it was mostly dark with only a few larger torches on the wall lit, it had gotten cold which was unsurprising but Karofsky was like a furnace radiating heat Kurt could feel as he stood close, the bed was made and, thankfully, the decorative bear furs had been neatly folded and put away.  
  
Karofsky kissed him, quickly, like he was waiting for Kurt to say no or protest and didn’t want him to change his mind. Kurt was almost grateful for it because he desperately wanted to but knew it would do no good. He tasted like wine and meat which wasn’t what Kurt had fantasied about with a boy, ever, but it was far better than the old, sourness of earlier.  
  
I can do this, Kurt told himself firmly and he was glad his bones still felt a little bendy.  
  
Kurt hands were behind his back as he still held the door handle but Karofsky started to clumsily unbutton his jacket without breaking their kiss. Kurt tried to get distracted, tried to kiss him back and Karofsky responded easily, deepening the kiss and gripped Kurt’s hips with large hands.  
  
It wasn’t a bad feeling, he told himself firmly as Karofsky dug his fingers in tightly, pushing Kurt against the door and canting his hips so he could settle against them. It wasn’t horrible, he said to himself again as Karofsky rubbed against him and Kurt could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him half hard because he knew what this night was going to end in and he had been thinking about sex all day.  
  
There were clumsy fingers pushing his jacket off and Kurt had to let go of the door. He held Karofsky’s arms tightly, not sure if he was going to push him away or not as Karofsky kissed down his neck, leaving a wet trail as he dropped the jacket to the floor. Kurt wanted to protest but he couldn’t find his voice as Karofsky started untying the lacing on the front of his pants.  
  
I can do this,Kurt repeated, closing his eyes and letting himself feel Karofsky’s hand close around him. I can do this, he gasped as he felt himself grow harder, jolts of pleasure shooting down his spine as the hand pulled slow and tight around his cock. This isn’t that bad, he shifted to hold the back of Karofsky’s broad shoulders and loose shirt. It could be worse, he decided as he gasped into Karofsky’s mouth, feeling him moan, moaning in turn and it could be so much worse.  
  
It was dry, a little rough, and Dave’s hand didn’t fit well into Kurt’s pants even if they were open. But Kurt didn’t want to break the fragile balance he had right now so he stayed, tense against the wall, curled into Karofsky’s boy, breaking the kiss so he could gasp wetly against the clean cotton. He focused on the drag and pull, trying to enjoy the sparks lace up his legs and toes until he came with a weak cry against the fabric at Karofsky’s shoulder. His hips jerked into Karofsky’s fist and he could hear ragged breathing on the back of his neck and Karofsky let Kurt’s cum trickled down his fingers until he was pulled slick at Kurt’s rapidly softening cock.  
  
“It’s too-” Kurt pushed against Karofsky now as the pleasure turned to pain and Karofsky obediently let him go.  
  
Was it over? Kurt thought dizzily, wine and post orgasm tingles still thrilling in his veins. Was that the marriage sex he had been afraid of? It wasn’t so bad.  
  
“Take off your clothes,” Karofsky’s voice was rough and Kurt swallowed hard and started to push his pants down his legs. Of course it wasn’t over, he had read the scrolls his father had given him when he turned marriageable age last year. But not everyone did that, Kurt couldn’t stop his hands from trembling and he was having trouble with his buttons. Karofsky had no such worries and he shucked his shirt, tossing it across the room.  
  
He was hairy, much hairier than Kurt and he paused to watch as Karofsky curse and struggled with his pants. He was built like an ox with muscles that weren’t defined but instead just obvious beneath a solid chest and thick hair. Kurt froze, trembling pausing as Karofsky managed his pants and pushed them down to reveal a thick, long cock jutting out from his body and Kurt looked away quickly.  
  
“Are you done?” Karofsky was breathing hard as Kurt shimmied out of his boots and pants and started to neatly fold them. He looked for a place to put them that wasn’t the floor or the bed but he couldn’t really think right now with his brain drowning in hormones, alcohol and dread. He stumbled to the bed, Karofsky helping him a little and laid down on his back.  
  
He flushed as the older boy looked him over. He still had on a white shirt mostly unbuttoned but Karofsky didn’t say anything about it. Instead, Kurt felt like his eyes were physically on him, raking over his body and he felt like in the corridor, naked, this time literally which was worse, and wanting to hide under something.  
  
With a quick movement, Karofsky was straddling him, pressing him into the down comforter with an embarrassing squeak and Kurt brought his hands up defensively against Karofsky’ chest as the boy started to plant toothy kisses on his neck.  
  
The chest hair was scratchy on Kurt’s wrists and he was pinned down and starting to panic a little. Karofsky was heavy and hot and pressing on his rib cage so Kurt had to turn his head away from Karofsky’s, squeezing his eyes tightly as he tried to take deep breaths.  
  
That was Karofsky’s cock against his hip, that was his hair rough and grating on his belly, his tongue on his jaw, hands in his hair. It was too much and Kurt just tried to breathe, _I can do this, I can do this_ as Karofsky groaned and pressed him harder into the bed. He forced himself to relax as the boy grunted over him and let the words wash over him. He could do this, he could, just lay like this and soon it would be over and it really wasn’t that bad-  
  
“Turn over,” Karofsky’s voice was ragged and cracked. He lifted far enough off of Kurt that he could twist on to his stomach, feeling the larger cock drag over his hip and he grabbed the pillow that had been under his head and hugged it to his chest.  
  
It felt better this way- scarier because Kurt knew what might happen next- but better because he didn’t have to close his eyes and get lost in the dark to pretend it wasn’t Karofsky. It was detached, more clinical for him as Karofsky rutted against the small of his back with increasing volume. Karofsky couldn’t kiss him easily, he didn’t have to taste the air of the boy above him at the absence of at least one sense was enough.  
  
He couldn’t block out the smell of sweat and wine, or Karofsky’s skin rubbing with harsh friction against his and his hands gripping Kurt’s shoulders. He couldn’t ignore Karofsky’s harsh moans, some high pitched some growling. And even though he didn’t have to see Karofsky’ face contorted above him, he had to watch the bed rock against the wall with each thrust but he was too afraid to close his eyes.  
  
But it wasn’t that bad. He could do this.  
  
“I need-” Karofsky stopped suddenly and Kurt wanted to pull the pillow over his head until he actually couldn’t breathe. There were fingers spreading his apart and brushing against sensitive skin and Kurt couldn’t stop himself from recoiling. “Oil- I’ve got some-”  
  
Kurt shivered, cold, as Karofsky scrambled off of him and crawled on his knees to the bedside. He could hear him cursing and knocking things over and Kurt prayed a little that he was knocking over what he was looking for. But then Karofsky was back, swinging a leg over Kurt’s hips like he was a goddamn animal and Kurt buried his head in the pillow trying to not scream.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Karofsky sounded out of breath and like he was trying to be reassuring but Kurt almost couldn't hear him because his finger was circling sensitive skin and Kurt wanted to crawl under the bed. “I’ve read about how to do this. Just relax.”  
  
Kurt nodded and pulled his head from the pillow because this was going to happen. He winced, uncomfortable as Karofsky breeched him with the tip of his wide finger, but held still trying to force his legs to relax open.  
  
Karofsky had used too much oil but Kurt supposed hysterically in his mind that at least it wasn’t too little. It didn’t hurt exactly but Kurt didn’t want it, not at all, and it felt so intrusive, like Karofsky had ripped him open and was staring at his insides.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Karofsky sounded nervous and Kurt shook his head before answering in a thick voice, “No.”  
  
“Good,” and then there was another finger.  
  
Too big, too much, Kurt’s knuckles were white as he gripped the pillow and he clutched it to his eyes as tears started to prick at the corners. He groaned a little as the skin stretched too far but Karofsky either didn’t hear him or thought it was something different because he pushed them in faster, excited. Kurt forced himself to relax, the only tension showing in his face and hands because he had to do this, he told himself, he could do this.  
  
There were three fingers, slick enough but sharp pain as his body tried to accommodate. Karofsky was pushing them in and out with enthusiasm and Kurt had to bite the pillow to keep from crying out.  
  
Then, they were gone and Kurt’s body relaxed involuntarily and he sighed at the sudden absence. It was short lived because almost immediately, Karofsky was pushing him open again with one hand and there was a large, blunt pressure.  
  
If Kurt had thought the three fingers were too much, this was much worse. This time Kurt felt like his body was tearing, like there was a person on either side of him and they were fighting over him as his skin pulled apart molecule by molecule. His body was numb except where Karofsky was pushing in and there was no holding back his cries as his legs and hips jerked against the pain. There was no relaxing, no point on the wall to stare at as Karofsky groaned and sweat over him, drops falling on Kurt’s back and stung and Kurt felt like he was being hollowed out.  
  
It was never ending and Kurt couldn’t stop trying to move to get way but Karofsky had one hand on his hips and one hand between his shoulders pinning him in place.  
  
“Okay?” Karofsky’s voice was strained and Kurt couldn’t answer. He didn’t seem to notice though as he kept pushing slowly and Kurt was certain he was going to pierce right though him, leaving a hole in his belly and he was going to bled to death on this bed in this palace so many miles from home.  
  
Finally, because Kurt had lost track of time, time now measured in fractions of inches not seconds or minutes, Karofsky was finished. Coarse hair was pressed again his back and Karofsky was practically laying on top of him, his hands painfully keeping Kurt from pulling enough air into his chest while Karofsky panted greedily near Kurt’s ear.  
  
“See?” Karofsky sounded happy, like they had accomplished something and spittle landed on the back of Kurt’s neck. “It’s not so bad. All the girls bled a little their first time.”  
  
Kurt had forgotten what his voice sounded like so he couldn’t speak.  
  
The rest of the night was flashes of pain and numbness and Kurt focused on the pillow as Karofsky moved inside of him. He felt like his insides were shifting each time, like Karofsky was moving things around and causing irreparable damage but after a while Kurt grew distant, realising coldly that at least Karofsky had used enough oil, had prepared his body like the scrolls told him too, and moved slowly at first. He wasn’t forcing Kurt to move from his belly and instead seemed content to thrust into him as he laid prone and gradually lax on the bed. Eventually, even his fingers relaxed their grip and Kurt let his head rest on its side on the soft cloth, his cheek dragging as his body moved with the bed like they were the same object.  
  
Kurt only felt a few more sharp, painful jabs as Karofsky stiffened and jerked out of rhythm before relaxing on Kurt’s back, forcing the little air Kurt had been breathing out of his lungs and making him feel flat. Kurt didn’t fight it because he wasn’t sure he wanted to breathe right now.  
  
But Karofsky pulled out and Kurt winced, his skin dragging backwards, and there was warm liquid slick on the oil between his thighs. Karofsky sat next to him, panting and red-faced, looking pleased but exhausted. Kurt shifted, painfully to his side so they could look at each other.  
  
“Good,” Karofsky barked a quick laugh and slapped Kurt on the hip like he was one of his friends and they had just killed something bloody. “Great. That was fantastic.”  
  
Kurt nodded because, he decided dully, it could have been worse. He could be bruised and bleeding and in more pain than he was now. This was manageable, he twisted slowly, tested each movement before committing to it as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Karofsky had crawled to the other side of the bed and pulled the blankets down so he could crawl under them. He turned his back to Kurt with a yawn and stilled, breath slowing so quickly Kurt thought he was dying.  
  
But his breathing roughed into soft snores and Kurt sat there, knees hugged to his chest and he bit his lip, trying to cope quietly with the throbbing pain still between his legs. He could feel the oil and Karofsky leaking onto the blankets but he knew if he got off this bed to clean up he couldn’t make himself get back on it. There was no way he could get out and then come back to slide under the covers and sleep next to Karofsky’s bare back.  
  
He rested his forehead on his knees and took even breaths because this wasn’t so bad. This was doable. It didn’t hurt that much. People suffered worse. He had seen refugees arrive on the shores with worse injuries and more horrific stories than this. This wasn’t so bad, it really wasn’t, and so much good would come from it.  
  
So Kurt sat there, shivering in the cold room, trying to work up the courage to crawl under the covers and sleep next to his husband.  


 

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

  
It wasn’t so much that Kurt got used to it because there was no getting used to it but-  
  
He kind of got used to it.  
  
Karofsky wasn't always in the palace. Kurt learned that after the first night. He hadn't slept well and was awake before Karofsky. He had gotten dressed, sore and careful, and hovered around the room unsure of what he was supposed to do now. Eventually, Karofsky had rolled awake and stumbled into clothes that Sam had brought him. He had kissed Kurt on the cheek dutifully and left on another hunt without much conversation. Kurt had been surprised but relieved and, a month later, he was bored of the routine.  
  
It seemed that anytime there was a hint of a dragon in a tower, a bear in a village, or a rabbit out of its cage, Karofsky and his boys were mounted and out of the gates as fast as they could go. Kurt couldn’t say he missed him being in the castle. If Karofsky was around (and wasn’t skinning some animal, shooting birds from the towers or drinking with his comrades) he was usually looking at Kurt with a hungry edge in his eye and, well, that was the part Kurt was getting used to.  
  
When Karofsky left the first time, Kurt had a lot of time to think. When Karofsky returned a few days later, Kurt had talked himself into getting Karofsky off with his hand. He had spent those days preparing, composing a role for himself, and he was glad all the practice in the tower was paying off. Each time Karofsky returned it was getting easier and easier to touch him, or let him press him on the bed. Kurt thought he should find it more disturbing how normal it was becoming but he tried his best to push it from his mind. When Karofsky wasn’t there, Kurt ignored that part of his life completely and struggled to find things to distract himself.  
  
Unlike Kurt’s role of heir at home, Karofsky rarely sat in on any important decision making. Since there was so little expected of Karofsky, and Kurt was seen to have even less power as the second Prince, Kurt’s role in the political system was non-existent. The first time he tried to see about attending a council meeting he was met with bewildered stares and a shocked, “No!” He also found leaving the castle grounds was met with harsh looks and a stern escort back to Karofsky’s wing. He felt a little like a dog that was allow to wander freely in a fenced yard unless he tried to dig up the garden or make any noise. It was humiliating and he was getting more and more desperate to see reminders that he had lived a life before this.  
  
He usually found himself down in the tailors’ workshop helping Mercedes with whatever project she needed extra hands. Fabrics, thread, colours; those were things he knew how to mend.  
  
“It’s just that I’m used to having a greater range of motion,” Kurt had also found she had a sympathetic ear for his problems. She was always busy sewing, cutting and measuring but they could talk easy while they worked. Right now, Kurt was working on the ruffles of the Queen’s new dress. Mercedes was boning the bodice and Kurt was thankful Finn wasn’t around to make not-hilarious jokes about that. “I just can’t imagine being behind these stupid walls for the rest of my life.”  
  
“I’d go crazy,” Mercedes nodded in agreement. “I’ve never left the city but at least I know I can. Have you spoken to the prince about it?”  
  
“Ha,” Kurt said darkly. “We don’t exactly speak, if you know what I mean. It’s mostly just him grunting then rolling over asleep.”  
  
“Oh, honey,” Mercedes gave him sad eyes and Kurt focused on a particularly difficult stitch before changing back to safe territory.  
  
“I just really want to know how Artie is doing,” Kurt sighed. He was thinking a lot about Artie lately, he guiltily pinned another ruffle. He had made a promise and he had grown up learning that you needed to stick to your promises. He had bonded with Artie, odd-ball stories and strange obsessions with knights and all, and there was a pit of worry in his stomach as each day passed and there was no word.  
  
But with Artie came Blaine and that was a door Kurt didn’t want to open. It was something that gave him a headache when he tried to think. But there was no option really.  
  
“Look,” Mercedes started but paused. She looked hesitant and she stopped her cutting. “I didn’t want to say anything. But I asked my brother about your friends. He goings to the port for trading sometimes. They’re singers right?”  
  
“They are fantastic singers,” Kurt said. “I think. I mean, I’ve never actually heard them but I’m sure they’re good. Blaine was the lead.”  
  
“You never mentioned,” she said dryly.  
  
“Blaine was just fantastic,” Kurt hated to think about it. “And his voice is magical. I wish I could have heard him sing. And his hair- I wasn’t into curly hair until I saw him. He’s so embarrassed about it but it just looks so soft.”  
  
Why was he still talking about Blaine? He had sobbed this story out to Mercedes weeks ago. This wasn’t going to help his headache, or help to finish the dress. He had to stop obsessing over this. It was like he was a teenager with an embarrassing crush. And, yes, he was, but he couldn’t afford to be, no matter how much Blaine’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and how deep his voice got when he said Kurt’s name-  
  
“Be careful on the hems,” Mercedes scolded and Kurt realised he had been hugging the mannequin and was dangerously close to drooling over Mercedes’s hard work. He detached himself, taking up the needle again.  
  
“Anyway,” Mercedes continued. “He said there is a group of young men living in a boarding house close to the port.”  
  
“Why does he think it’s them?” Kurt placed a few pins in his mouth as he started to need both hands to place fabric. They had gotten the final measurements today and dress was due to be finished soon so they couldn’t just break to gossip, as delicious as it was. He moved to the lower part of the dress and gingerly got to his knees.  
  
“The woman they’re staying with,” Mercedes pricked her finger and cursed loudly. “Sorry, the woman they’re staying with has a, well, she doesn’t normally board clients, if you understand my meaning. They usually are usually in and out within an hour.”  
  
“Ah,” before Kurt might have been scandalized by a prostitute but lately he had been feeling a strange kinship with them.  
  
“Anyway, they have been there for quite a while and pay on time. My brother isn't sure what they are doing there but that's unusual enough to cause some talk.”  
  
“Blaine said they had a gig,” Kurt moved around the dress, holding the skirt with one hand as he scrambled for more pins. “Bur ai dunno wher’diz.”  
  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mercedes chided. “You’ll stab yourself in the lip and then you’ll bleed and I am not starting this over again. Well, they aren’t singing in the upper city. They must be doing something in the port, or on the docking ships.”  
  
Kurt was hidden from the door with too many pins in his mouth to comfortably reply. It was a good thing though. He was fairly certain any reply he had would be silly, like suggesting they book every cruise on the water until they see the Warblers preform, or visiting all the whores in the lower city and polite ask if they've been a dozen well mannered, navy clad, strikingly beautiful-.  
  
Shut up, Kurt, he gave himself a mental slap.  
  
Before he could think of a reply that didn’t make him sound like a sad, obsessed a capella groupie, the other frequent visitor to the tailor’s walked in. Kurt could see Quinn, even from his position behind the ruffled skirt, and he ducked a little lower.  
  
“Mercedes, thank God you are here.”

 

Quinn and Kurt had yet to warm to each other. She was Karofsky’s first cousin and third in line for the throne after Karofsky and now Kurt as well. He suspected that was the reason she always glared at him over dinner and stabbed her vegetables extra hard while he fidgeted in his chair. She also came to Mercedes to chat as often as Kurt and that was probably another reason why she kept on subtly sticking a delicate ankle out to trip him each time they passed each other on the stairs.  
  
“I can’t stand them anymore. I’m leaving.”  
  
“Really?” it was an infamous topic at court. Quinn had been attempting to either run away or stage a takeover since she was three, Kurt had heard through gossip. Kurt silently admired that about her as well. “You said that last week when your father took away your history books. What happened this time?”  
  
Quinn sighed and Kurt heard her drop into one of the comfortable chairs around the sewing room. She never spoke so passionately around him so he stayed quiet and kept pinning.  
  
“Nothing new. He took away my economics books this time.”  
  
“So you're taking off?" Mercedes asked. "How are you going to do it? Bungee jumping from the cliff onto a boat again? Learn enough magic to call a dragon to eat Karofsky’s head? Oh, wait! My favourite. Get yourself pregnant and be kicked out.”

 

“That last one was a joke,” she said half-heartedly. Kurt couldn’t see her from where he was carefully pinched and pinning fabric but he could sympathise with the longing sound in her voice.  
  
“So come on, tell me. I’m all ears.”  
  
“It’s stupid,” Quinn prefaced. “But- do you know the smell by the library?”

 

“The one that smells that Karofsky after a full day of mama’s five bean chilli?”

 

“Yes.”  
  
Kurt gagged a little. He was going to promise all kinds of favours to Mercedes’s mother if she promised to never, ever make that meal.  
  
“I was poking around there the other day.”  
  
“Did you find out what died?”  
  
“It’s not just the smell,” Quinn sounded excited. “There’s a tunnel.”  
  
“Please tell me you aren’t thinking what I think you are thinking.”  
  
“It must be for the royals.” Quinn had latched onto something and no amount of doubt was going to stop her. “I bet it leads to the sea.”  
  
“What a good discovery,” Mercedes said in monotone. “You should inform the king.”  
  
“Or I could check it out. To make sure it’s safe. Who knows where it actually leads? Karofsky could stumble down it in a drunken stupor and fall into a lava pool."  
  
“You don’t care about your cousin.”  
  
“No,” Quinn agreed. “But I care about this kingdom. If there’s a tunnel leading into to the port it could mean an attack on the castle. There are plenty of hard working, non union workers that live and work here,” Quinn looked pointedly at Mercedes and she rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about them but I do care about people like you. And if I tell that blood-obsessed so-called ruler about it he’ll probably just board it up and be done with it."

 

“I thought you just said that was a good thing,” Mercedes said suspiciously. "Lava pools, murderous raids; those are things we don't want, right?"  
  
“Well, yes, but what if we could use it as an escape route, not just the royal family?” Quinn countered.  
  
“So if we don’t cover it up pirates will kill us in our sleep and if we do cover it up, revolting citizens could kill us in our sleep,” Mercedes summarized and Quinn laughed.  
  
“Well when you put it that way it sound stupid,” Quinn sighed. She sounded wishful. “All right, maybe I just want one last adventure before someone starts to realise I'm well into marrying age. I can only fake my fourteenth birthday so many times before my parents notice. At least if I look at it once we can know exactly what we are dealing with.”  
  
“Palace security is just a formality after all,” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “Also, you might want to be careful where you talk about Karofsky like that.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure everyone knows I wouldn’t cry if he finally did get eaten by a bear one day.” Kurt couldn’t help but hear a dark edge to her voice.  
  
“That still wouldn't leave you in charge,” Mercedes gave a look to Kurt and he was nearly done with the back of the dress. He went to stand but Quinn had already started to speak.  
  
“Prince Kurt is like a little doll,” she snorted as Kurt straightened. “I’m pretty sure he’ll turn tail and run as soon as Karofsky isn’t there to save him- oh, uh, hello!”  
  
Quinn jumped from the chair with a blush on her face.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Kurt smirked. He felt a bit of a thrill run through him as Quinn looked nervous and he had forgotten what it was like to have control over something. “I won’t tell my husband about your-” he paused, waiting dramatically and God he missed the theatre, “- lapse in prose. I wouldn’t want him to hang you accidentally for high treason.”  
  
Quinn scowled but nodded her head. “Thank you, Prince Kurt. I wouldn’t want our friendship damaged by a-” and, Jesus, she could dramatic pause as well and Kurt wished he liked breasts more, “- slight misunderstanding.”  
  
“Well, now that we’ve gotten that cleared up,” Mercedes nervously clapped her hands.

“How about some nice tea and cake?”

 

“Actually, I’m interested in the tunnel,” Kurt said not looking away from Quinn because that would mean losing and Kurt had lost enough this past while. “Lady Quinn, perhaps you could should me where it is. Certainly it should be me who looks after my husband’s safety.”  
  
“You and a half-brained army,” Quinn muttered under her breath. Louder she said, “What I’m certain of is that I wouldn’t want my future king’s beloved to enter a potentially dangerous place alone. Who knows what lives in the mountain?”  
  
“Are you suggesting you come with me?” Kurt raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t opposed to it, surprisingly. The tunnel just seemed like the first exciting thing to happen and it might even be a way to find some sort of escape from this palace, even for a little while. He wasn’t running away, he told himself sternly. It was just good to have... options. It would be smarter to go alone and keep something like this a secret but Quinn seemed to hate this life just as much as he did. Plus, if they both went neither could rat the other out, right?  
  
“If it pleases you,” Quinn curtsied beautifully.  
  
“I would please me greatly,” Kurt nodded.  
  
“Oh, hell to the no,” Mercedes slammed down her scissors and both of them jumped. “The both of you are idiots. Quinn, you have to face up to the fact that your cousin is a moron and stop this double talk sneaking around. It’s going to get you charged with treason one day and I am not going to visit you in a convent. And you, Kurt, have got to stop lying to yourself because one day you are going to get yourself killed.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt scowled.  
  
She gave him a look that said ‘Why do I hang out with stupid people’ mixed with something akin to pity and Kurt crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  
  
“You just need to start thinking about yourself before you do something stupid like wander into another dragon’s cave.”  
  
“I didn’t wander into that tower, it was _tradition_ -”  
  
“So it’s settled,” Quinn cut him off as she brushed her skirt flat. “You and I will meet tonight at the library and we can go exploring this tunnel together.”  
  
“Deal,” Kurt nodded.  
  
Mercedes frowned at both of them but there was nothing else she could do to change their minds. When royals made a crazy plan there apparently was no stopping them. Kurt couldn’t stop smiling as he raced back up to Karofsky’s room later. He hadn’t had something like this for a while now and, well, if Mercedes was speaking the truth about him then something like this could only help, right? He was going to do something selfish for once, leaving the castle, and it might even find him a way to Artie. That was a solid goal; find Artie and help him fix his problem. It wasn’t a bad thing to want to help people, Kurt said firmly to him.  
  
Now he just had to plan an outfit because for the first time in a long time he was going to be around crowds and people. That, more than anything, made him bubble with excitement. He had taken to wearing loose, casual pants and shirts around the castle because there was no one to impress. Even the tower he had been showing off for first Puck and Santana (and it had nothing to do with the fact Santana was a cruel beast and he knew she was just jealous, because how could a dragon that was naked all the time criticize his fashion?) and than Artie had been a captive audience. Kurt felt no such challenge and the audience, well, it wasn't like Kurt needed to encourage Karofsky.  
  
Unfortunately, after Kurt had finally settled on a black ensemble that could double as Rugged Cave Explorer and Chic Night On The Town (a feat that proved to be the perfect challenge to prove to himself that he still had what it took), Karofsky made his triumph return that night.  
  
“Welcome back,” Kurt didn’t spare Karofsky a glance. He had dressed and was carefully styling his hair in the mirror. “Good hunt?”  
  
“It was amazing,” Karofsky was already pulling his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt could see him in the reflection and quite suddenly he felt a stab of annoyance because he just didn’t have time to pretend to do this right now. “What are you wearing?”  
  
“Black is in fashion in the south,” Kurt said and turned around reluctantly. Karofsky had his hands already opening the lacing of his pants. Most of the time, Kurt had been on him the second Karofsky had walked through the door. He had learned that if it was Karofsky who started things they could rapidly get out of control. Kurt would felt sick as Karofsky pawed at him and pinned him where ever he happened to be; the bed, the desk, against wall or in the hot spring. If he took the first step it was easier and it was good because Kurt was certain the ball of fear and nerves when he got word that Karofsky was back would one day become arousal. It was just a matter of time and training.  
  
Right now though he was feeling irritated that Karofsky had started to take these things for granted and he had to meet Quinn in twenty minutes.  
  
It was no longer a surprise to see Karofsky naked. He was walking over to Kurt determinedly and Kurt had to hurry if he wanted to do this quickly and keep his clothes on.  
  
“You look hot in black,” Karofsky pressed Kurt back onto the vanity Kurt had been sitting on and pressed his dick right on the raised black on black embroidery Kurt had spent days on when he had made the shirt in the tower. Kurt didn’t reply but took Karofsky in his hand, hoping to spare his shirt before things got messy. “But all I want to do is take it off of you.”  
  
This just wouldn’t work, Kurt panicked a little as Karofsky kissed his neck and started to fumbling with the lacing of the top. He tried to work his hand like he had learned, hoping that Karofsky would be satisfied with just this, but his hands were insistent and Kurt winced as he was pressed painfully on the stone.  
  
“Wait-” Kurt gasped a little desperately and Karofsky paused because Kurt rarely spoke once they were touching each other. “I just- I’m not feeling well enough for- that.”  
  
Karofsky pulled away and looked at him with a frown. The feeling that made Kurt want to claw his skin off had started to fade over the month which he was grateful for but the guilt was something he hadn’t expected to replace it.  
  
“What do you mean?” Karofsky just looked confused and Kurt couldn’t understand why he felt so bad. “Do you need, like, a lady doctor or something?”  
  
“Ah, no,” Kurt felt his face heat a little. Who taught Karofsky basic biology? “Nothing like that. But I just don’t think I’m up for it. I can- with my hand-“  
  
“Okay,” Karofsky looked disappointed but he pulled back. Karofsky wasn’t a monster, Kurt had learned slowly, but he would probably always be that selfish boy that treated Kurt like he was a prize in front of his men and Blaine.  
  
Karofsky moved to sit on the chair and Kurt got down on his knees because it had the smallest possibility of Karofsky ripping at his clothes. It was the first time like this and Kurt realised it was a mistake the second he got comfortable.  
  
He was fairly certain that Karofsky didn’t hate him, or deliberately try to degrade him. He knew men and boys in their position were trained to see people as numbers on sheets of papers and unless they were taught differently it was hard to connect those numbers to flesh and blood. Kurt had been taught well. Karofsky had not.  
  
So when Karofsky groaned and ran his hand through Kurt’s hair roughly, not caring that Kurt had spent the last twenty minutes making sure it was perfect, he blamed it on Karofsky’s father. He also made the mistake of looking up and seeing that hazed, red faced look Karofsky got sometimes. He felt like a piece of food, looking up at Karofsky from a dinner plate like this and the cake he had eaten earlier turned unpleasantly in his stomach when Karofsky licked his lips. He winced as Karofsky pulled his face closer to where his hand was steadily pulling at veiny skin.  
  
They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to with Karofsky’s excitement stinking up the air and his sweaty palms encouraging on Kurt’s head. Kurt couldn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of a good reason not to. So he let Karofsky slide past his lips and accepted the salty, stinging taste like he was slowly accepting everything else in his life.  
  
Ten minutes later, Karofsky was under the covers of their bed and Kurt was slipping out the door, his stomach more than unsettled. He walked unsteadily down the stairs. He held onto the wall for the first few, letting the cool marble ground himself.  
  
Then he made his way to an uncovered window, grateful for the still air that night, and vomited over the side.  
  
Quinn and Mercedes were waiting for him, Quinn tapping her foot impatiently and Mercedes looking impatient at being there at all.  
  
“Sorry,” Kurt was certain they could smell it on his breath if he went to close so he spoke quietly, trying to not open his mouth too much. “Karofsky came back unexpectedly.”  
  
“Let’s just go,” Quinn was eager and led them to the left of the heavy library doors to an ugly tapestry. It was dark and the only light was the lit torch Quinn had brought with her. They entered the tunnel. pushing cobwebs and sneezing as they kicked up what felt like decades of dust. They went down until they thought the light wouldn’t shine through around the tapestry at the opening and Mercedes settled on the cushion she had brought with her.  
  
“I might as well get something useful done while you two idiots get mugged,” she said grumbling as she pulled a half sown shirt from her basket. “Don’t take too long, remember. I have to be awake for work tomorrow. Some of us can’t sleep in until noon tomorrow to catch up on beauty sleep.”  
  
“We’ll be back soon,” Kurt promised and had to hurry to catch up to Quinn’s footsteps.  
  
The tunnel had started out in matching marble like the castle but soon after they left Mercedes it slanted downwards and the marble disappeared. It was made of carved rock and eventually it became steep. Steps had been crudely made and they had to hold the wall to keep from falling.  
  
“What is that smell?” Kurt wrinkled his nose as they descended in the darkness.  
  
“The sulphur from the volcanoes,” Quinn said from somewhere behind him. “Don’t worry. Most of them aren’t active anymore.”  
  
“That’s comforting,” Kurt grumbled and almost missed the next step. “So some of them are active.”  
  
“Well, they’re quiet now, aren’t they?” Quinn’s voice was tense and she let out a small scream before showering Kurt with pebbles. “Sorry!”  
  
“Just don’t fall!” Kurt hissed. “I don’t want to end up dead.”  
  
“Good goal,” Quinn said. “I’m glad we think so alike.”  
  
“I’ve got others,” Kurt replied. “I just wanted to say because- shit, watch this step- we don’t talk that much-“  
  
“Which step?”  
  
“This one.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“The one I’m pointing at!”  
  
“The- shit found it.”  
  
“Anyway, I really admire your stance on organic farming and low-income health care.”  
  
There was a long pause. Kurt was worried he had said something wrong. Finally, she said quieter in the dark, “I heard you arguing with the palace guard by the council room. I like your ideas about electoral reform.”  
  
“Thank you!” Kurt said, grateful he had found someone who could see a good idea when one came along. He launched into it with more detail and Quinn contributed when he paused for breath and their conversation grew warmer and warmer. The taste in his mouth started to fade.  
  
Eventually, the sulphur smell faded and they could start to smell the salt from the ocean. The tunnel evened out as they felt the fresh air on their faces and finally, they reached the bottom. Tunnel opened to a small overhanging to the sea. There was an old, almost completely fallen wooden structure that Quinn was certain had been used to attach ropes and ladders to boats.  
  
“It’s a perfect place for a siege,” she said, her eyes bright in the moonlight and Kurt frowned at her. “Not that I would ever want there to be one,” she back pedaled quickly. “Violence is never the answer.”  
  
It was dark but they could see the lights of ships on the water and the night noises of the lower city just off to the right. Kurt squinted because it looked bright and loud compared to the sleeping palace above their heads.  
  
“Is there a festival today or something?” he asked Quinn but she shook her head.  
  
There was a thin path leading around the side of the cliff and they crossed it carefully because neither wanted to end up in the water in the dark. The path took them right to the end of a small alley and they quickly made their ways to the noisy crowds.  
  
“Where did Mercedes say they were staying?” Quinn asked. She looked excited and her eyes darted from one place to another as if she couldn’t decide where she wanted to look.  
  
“A place called Brittany’s,” he said and sidestepped before he ruined his boots in a mysterious puddle.  
  
“Let’s look around,” Quinn linked her arm with his and brought them securely together. Kurt was more than happy to cling to her dark cloak as she led them through the crowds like she had grown up here.  
  
“What exactly are we looking for?” Kurt asked tensely. He was starting to forget what alley they had taken to get here and Mercedes was still waiting for them.  
  
“I’m assuming this Brittany, if she’s as popular as Mercedes says, she’ll probably be close to the ports, right? So if we go there and you ask for Brittany-“

 

“Why me?”

 

“You have the necessary-“ Quinn gestured to his pants and Kurt pulled his jacket closed with a glare. “What? It’s true!”  
  
“I’ll have you know I have no interest becoming a patron of Brittany’s,” Kurt hissed.

 

“Why not?”  
  
Kurt and Quinn jumped and spun around at the voice that was much too close to their ears. Kurt knocked into a surly looking, tattooed sailor who grumbled at him as he apologised profusely.  
  
In front of them was a tall, leggy blonde girl. She was older than Kurt, he was certain, but she had her head tilted, looking at them with a confused face that made her seem like she should be younger. The man Kurt bumped into noticed her as well and his face split into a wide, yellow toothed grin.  
  
“Brittany!” the man said a little too fondly and enveloped the girl in a big hug. He was so large that for a second Kurt thought the girl was going to be crushed but she let out a giggle and a pale hand patted the man on the back. He pulled back and gave her a kiss on the cheek which Kurt recoiled at even though it wasn’t directed at him. Quinn as well took a nervous step back. He gave her a questioning look but she only shrugged; neither sure whether they should intervene.  
  
“Sorry, I’m still all booked up!” the girl, Brittany it seemed, said and the man looked crushed.  
  
“You’re always booked these days,” the man sighed morosely and gave her one more look before letting go entirely and walking away.  
  
Kurt felt shaky without knowing why but Brittany just looked at the two with a serious expression. “I am booked today, and tomorrow and until Wes says I’m ready to go. But I’ve never seen you two here before. Are you new workers?”  
  
Kurt paled and sputtered while Quinn answered, “No, we aren’t looking for, uh, work. Are you Brittany?”  
  
“That’s what everyone calls me most of the time,” she said. “But sometimes people call me different names.”  
  
“Did you say you know Wes?” Kurt butted in eagerly. “As in, Wes and the Warblers?”

 

“Yes, they’ve booked me,” Brittany looked a little sad and looked vacantly over their shoulders. Kurt and Quinn followed her gaze. Right there, plain if they had only been looking in that direction, was a row of houses with colourful, attractive lights strung along the roofs. There were several young woman and a few young men loitering around the top of the street, chatting with, mostly older but also some young, men. In Quinn’s haste to find the ports they had almost walked past the city’s apparently well-patroned red light district. “They’ve been booking me every night.”  
  
Quinn raised her eyebrows and Kurt blanched. He couldn’t believe it! It was an outrage! Here he had been, spouting their praises for weeks and they were just- just- buying this poor girl like lecherous old men? He thought about this young, pretty girl being forced to service- God- how many of them at once? Did they give her a time to recover? What animals, they could at least hire enough girls for the volume. It was horrible, absolutely horrible and Quinn apparently agreed with him because she wrapped an arm protectively around Brittany.  
  
“You poor dear,” she brushed a stray hair over Brittany’s ear. “Come with us, we can find you a better job, with benefits and dental. I’m sure there is somewhere up at the palace-“  
  
“Dental?” Brittany tilted her head again and Kurt thought that it might be a default for her. “Is that, like, with donkeys? Because Wes says that was against the rules.”  
  
Suddenly, she was yanked from Quinn’s arms by a boy in navy who delivered Quinn a nasty glare.  
  
“Brittany what have I told you! No customers until you’ve finished- Kurt?”  
  
Kurt had never felt like a violent person but he hadn’t had an outlet for his frustrations since he and Artie got in a shouting match over the harmony for All the Well Sung Men (a main piece in Kurt’s New Directions musical which had never been finished). He was just as surprised as Quinn when suddenly there was a sharp pain in his fist and Wes fell back on the street clutching a bloody nose.  
  
“I can’t believe you played me!” Kurt was shouting and that more than the punch caused people to take notice of them. “You- you horrible human beings! How dare you parade around forests like asexual clergymen, pretending to help people like me only to brutalise the under privileged! It’s disgraceful and I swear by my grave the Warblers will never play in a palace again if I have to-“  
  
David had been close behind and he clapped a hand over Kurt’s mouth, holding him still when he struggled. “Be quiet, you idiot! Do you want to draw attention to yourself? Come on!”  
  
Wes scrambled to his feet and, holding his sleeve to his nose. He escorted the girls while David hauled a still struggling Kurt towards one of the houses down the alley. He tried to bite at David’s hand, kicking and aiming for kneecaps but David seemed to be skilled at this because he easily dodged every blow Kurt was trying for. Brittany went around them to open the door to the house and Wes gently pushed Quinn inside. Kurt tried to dig his heels into the doorstop but David gave a quick jerk, yanking his feet up and over the wood, then the door was slammed behind them.  
  
Once inside, David let Kurt go, pushing him into a covered and patched chair. Kurt let himself fall into it, gathering his wits as he imagined kicking David into one of the sometimes active volcanoes. Quinn sat straight backed on the other chair beside Kurt. She looked scared but determined and darted a quick glance to him.  
  
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly and Kurt nodded because David hadn’t even bruised him.  
  
There were several other Warblers, some in their navy jackets some not, in the one room first floor. The door opened directly into a space that only separated the kitchen and seating area by a wooden bar covered in yellowed papers and several stools. There was a narrow, rickety stair case off to the side. There was no back entrance, Kurt quickly noticed and one of the other Warblers had taken position against the only doorframe.  
  
It was dimly lit but Kurt saw right away that Blaine wasn’t there.  
  
“Are these your friends?” Quinn asked quietly and Kurt nodded with a jerk.  
  
“So it would seem.”  
  
Wes had taken a seat on one of the stools while David dipped a cloth in a water bucket by the cooking area. Wes held it to his face gratefully and, injuries assessed, David switched leadership with Wes easily and without any sort of words.  
  
“Kurt, what exactly do you think you are doing in the lower city?” The question was a lot gentler than Kurt expected from singing frauds and over-sexed hooligans.  
  
“Maybe I should ask what you are doing in the lower city,” Kurt shot back. “But I already know the answer to that question. _Booking_ this young lady, night after night to pass around. Disgraceful!”  
  
There was a pause and Wes finally spoke, nose not bleeding anymore, “What?”  
  
“I heard you!” Kurt felt like jumping out of the chair and maybe punching Wes again but his hand really hurt and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “Brittany was telling us about how you have been taking advantage of her. And I heard you, yourself, _Wesley_ ,” Kurt almost spat on the wooden floor. “Not letting her speak to other people like she is your caged doll! I’m a prince in this kingdom and I won’t stand for it!”  
  
“Actually, I feel like this is also a royal kidnapping,” Quinn interjected thoughtfully. “Kurt, I’m pretty sure you can push for a hanging if you want.”  
  
This time the pause was long and heavily punctuated with the nervous eyebrow conversations the Warblers seemed to be fluent in.  
  
“Maybe we should explain ourselves before anyone brings out nooses,” Wes said slowly and reassuringly to the other boys in the room. “Kurt, none of us are sleeping with Brittany.”  
  
“Well, Thad and Wes are,” Brittany cut in. “But all we do is cuddle.”  
  
Wes looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose but it was probably still too tender. Instead, he sighed and said, “Yes, we only cuddle. There are only so many beds here, you know.”  
  
“That’s because these houses weren’t designed for long term lodging,” David sounded uncharacteristically irritated.  
  
“David,” Wes glared. “We’ve been over this. We can’t in good morale standing leave until she can write a dissertation on it.”  
  
David rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, yes, we’ve all voted and we all agreed. But that was before we realised the extend of Brittany’s-” he paused, searching for a word. “Her, well, limits.”  
  
“I have no limits,” Brittany piped up and Wes shot Kurt a dirty look like it was his fault he had a headache. Which, Kurt realised, was probably true. If his hand hurt this much he almost felt sorry for the state of Wes’s now swelling nose.  
  
“I am totally confused,” Quinn looked from David to Wes. “A dissertation? On what?”

 

“This!” Wes slapped his hand on the bar making the papers flutter. “The International Health and Safety Standards for Sex Trade Workers!”

 

“What?” Kurt blurted out. His brain was looping around and around in his head trying to piece together the last ten minutes.  
  
“Brittany!” Wes snapped. “Why do you need to wear protection according to Article 26?”

“So you don’t learn the alphabet!” Brittany said proudly and Wes head made a loud thump when he dropped it onto the table with a frustrated howl.  
  
“See?” he gestured wildly, a red mark now visible above his swollen nose and Kurt couldn’t ever remember seeing Wes so dishevelled, even when they were sloughing through mud and horse crap the day it rained. “We can’t just leave her to those vultures without at least some basic knowledge! Brittany,” he grabbed her hands across the bar and she just looked at him bewildered. “You have to understand, I just can’t in good conscious leave you until you can take care of yourself.”  
  
“I can take care of myself, Wes,” she said gently and placed her hand over his. “I even have toys to help me.”  
  
It was exhausting and Kurt felt a little drained now that his righteous fire had been misplaced. He apologised to Wes who just shrugged it off with a polite apology about the misunderstanding and that just left Kurt feeling more tired because who the hell fought over who could make the more earnest apology?  
  
The threat of death gone now, the few Warblers still in the room relaxed but sat around like the excitement had interrupted their leisure and they weren’t sure if it was rude to return to what they had been doing before. Quinn had moved curiously to the papers and Wes who was trying to drill the facts into Brittany’s head. Brittany, for her part, looked like she was trying but every so often she would get distracted by a stray hair on Wes’s head and the shiny of a pot.  
  
David was still looking moody and he took the seat Quinn left. “I suppose you’re looking for Blaine?”  
  
“Actually, I was wondering where Artie was,” Kurt said half truthfully. “I’ve been missing him a lot.”  
  
“Oh,” David blinked confused. “Well, I’m not sure where he is now. We kind of pass him around. I think James had him last but you should ask Blaine. He’s the one officially in charge and he always knows who has him.”  
  
“So, Blaine is here?” and there was a quick thump in Kurt’s chest. He scolded himself and dug his fingernails into his knee.  
  
“Upstairs,” David finally smiled. “Third door on the left. I’m pretty sure he’s still awake.”  
  
Quinn was occupied with taking over from Wes who looked grateful for the break so Kurt started up the staircase. He could still hear the faint sounds of music outside and the soft voices downstairs but everything was silent beyond that. The house was mostly dark and the floorboards creaked under his feet as he counted doors. He paused, wishing he had a mirror to check his hair and double checking his clothes for stray dirt or rubble from the tunnel.  
  
“You can do this,” Kurt told himself because the phrase had been a staple in his life for the last month but somehow to seemed to make the air a little heavier.  
  
“Wes, I told you, I don’t want to go out and meet someone-“  
  
The door was yanked open before Kurt could do anything and suddenly there was Blaine.  
  
He wasn’t wearing the navy jacket. Instead, he had on a wool sweater that was old and pulled a little at the collar. He had sturdy workman’s pants, dark and faded. His hair was longer than Kurt remembered and a little more unkempt. There was a dark shadow around his jaw, which was slack and open as he stared at Kurt.  
  
“Hello Blaine Warbler,” Kurt knew his voice was thin and embarrassing. He hated it but suddenly, in front of Blaine after all this time, after everything that had happened, Kurt felt naked and that was more embarrassing than his stupid voice. He wondered if he looked different, if being married to Karofsky had physically changed him. He worried that he still had some vomit in his mouth. He could still feel the phantom acid taste and suddenly he wished he had planned for this better, washed his mouth out or something. Karofsky could try to make him feel like less than a person but Blaine-  
  
He knew that Blaine could probably make him break into a million pieces.  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine looked a little lost and reached out to touch Kurt’s face, as if to make sure he was actually there. It was easy to turn his head into the fingers, press against the rough swirls of his hand and Blaine leaned in close. Kurt was worried for a minute that he was drunk but there was no smell of alcohol and past him, in the room with a large made bed, there were no bottles only books on the side table. “Kurt, what are you doing here?” the words were soft and Kurt’s breath was too quick.  
  
“I missed Artie,” Kurt whispered, the first thing that came to his mind. Blaine’s eyes widened and he stepped back. Kurt could almost feel the recoil and he was grateful for the space.  
  
“Artie,” Blaine ran a hand through his hair and Kurt was a little thrilled to see the atmosphere hadn’t just affected him. “Right. Of course. I think Nick took him to a bar.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I mean, produce stand,” Blaine said quickly as he shut the door. Kurt stepped in, looking around the room because it was safer than looking at Blaine right now. There were wasn’t much room besides the bed and there were three canvas packs resting on the wall. The candles were on the side table, next to the books, one of them open. It was obvious that Blaine hadn’t been sleeping. The window was open and there was a cool breeze. Kurt jumped at a large metal clanking sound and turned to where Blaine was guiltily kicking a bag under the bed.  
  
“Sorry, just moving equipment out of the way.”  
  
“Equipment?” Kurt asked. It was awkward now and he was out of practice with awkward.  
  
“For work,” Blaine said hastily.  
  
“I thought you didn’t need equipment to sing,” Kurt said confused.  
  
“Sing?” Blaine blinked. “Oh yea, well, this is stuff for other jobs we’ve been doing. Manual labour and such. Not too many singing jobs around here, hahaha,” Blaine laughed weakly.  
  
“Oh,” Kurt said and gingerly sat on the bed. Far from the down feather bed Karofsky shared with him, the mattress was old and loud Kurt could feel the springs under his hands. “Why are you still here?”  
  
Blaine was grabbing stray socks and pushing them under the bed but he paused before replying. “Well, it’s a nice city.”  
  
“It’s not a nice city,” Kurt said. He wasn’t sure what he wanted Blaine to say. He just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.  
  
“Sure it is!” Blaine scolded, laughing a little, trying to ease the air. “There’s fresh fish everyday, colourful, new people everyday. Yesterday in fact, I met a man with three legs. But his third leg was-”  
  
“I’m married, Blaine. You shouldn’t be here,” Kurt blurted out. He desperately wanted to cram the words back in his mouth. Blaine paused, frozen.  
  
Kurt gripped the scratchy blanket on the bed and wished the cheerful strains of music coming clear though the night air would stop. He didn’t want to be serenaded for this. But this was the real reason he had wanted to come. He would get Artie, tie up this loose end and then Blaine could be gone. He couldn’t be with Karofsky the way his kingdom needed him to be. Not when he was looking out his window every night wondering if Blaine was out there doing the same.  
  
“I stayed but you came to find me,” the words were accusatory but they didn’t sound like it. “What does that mean?”  
  
“It means I’m stupid and selfish,” Kurt said. His hands were shaking on the ugly orange blanket but he gripped hard for courage. “And you still have your whole life ahead of you. You can find someone, someone you can marry and be happy with-“  
  
Blaine had come around the bed and Kurt couldn’t look up to see his face. This was a mistake, he realised, but it was good he came here so he could talk some sense into the poor man. Kurt wanted him to be happy and this was no way to live, pining after a married man under the guise of a stupid rabbit. He should just find Nick, surely there were only so many produce stands open this late, and leave. He should tell Wes to knock Blaine out and sling him over one of the horses until they were out of sight. Blaine would recover, what else could he do? Kurt had already recovered from Karofsky right? He was making that work. Kurt’s hands were starting to hurt. He could make this work too.  
  
There was a harsh, metallic strain as Blaine sat on the bed next to him. Kurt couldn’t turn his head to look because he was here, breaking this man’s beautiful, wonderful heart, and he couldn’t do it if he had to watch it too.  
  
There was a firm pressure on his chin and then Blaine tipped his head up and he was kissing him, softly. His lips were so different from Karofsky‘s. They were smooth, gentle and Kurt couldn‘t breathe. There was a tingle up his spine and Blaine reached to grip his elbow, turning their bodies to face each other, deepening the kiss and Kurt realised he had been trying to pretend this whole time. Each time he kissed Karofsky he had been comparing it to this, to what kissing Blaine must feel like. But his imagination was weak because it was nothing like what was happening right now, to his heart, to his body, as if Blaine was opening him up with his tongue. It felt warm, hot, and this was going to ruin him because now that he knew what Blaine tasted like he couldn’t pretend anymore.  
  
The kiss was turning hungry and Kurt let it. It wasn’t until Blaine leaned hard into him, pushing him back so the mattress gave a loud protest, that reality rushed back and Kurt jumped away, tripping over his feet when he went to stand and fell to the floor.  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine laughed and jumped to help Kurt up but Kurt shied away, scooting until he use used the wall to stand. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m with Karofsky now,” Kurt repeated, louder in case that made it seem more real.  
  
Blaine blinked, his hand still outstretched. “But- he’s an idiot!”  
  
“That doesn’t change our marriage certificate,” Kurt said shakily. “I came here to get Artie and say good bye. That’s all.”  
  
“You can’t possibly be happy with him!” Blaine voice was starting to get a desperate edge to it and Kurt blinked back tears because if he let himself get caught up in this he was going to get hysterical too.  
  
“No,” Kurt said harshly. “At least, not yet. But I will be. Someday. We got married and someday I’m sure things will change. I can’t leave him so I have to try and make things work,” he felt like he was talking from inside a glass tube. His voice felt tinny and small and his limbs felt like they were being squeezed until they would pop under the pressure. “Please, understand me when I say, it’s not that I don’t like you-”  
  
“Kurt you can’t do this to yourself,” Blaine was moving closer and Kurt felt his breath quicken but not in a good way this time. “If you aren’t happy, all you have to do it tell me you want my help and I can-”  
  
“Stop,” Kurt held up his hand, feeling like the walls were closing in on him and, thankfully, Blaine froze. Kurt took a shaky breath. “Just stop torturing yourself, all right? I’ll take Artie and go back to my life and you can go back to yours.”  
  
“All you have to do is ask me and I’ll-” Blaine was sounding frustrated but Kurt couldn’t let him finish.  
  
“Look, I’ve got to go,” Kurt slipped around Blaine, feeling a rush of relief as he made for the door. At the last minute, Blaine grabbed his wrist and pulled him up suddenly. Kurt, jerked hard, shaking a little, panicking, and Blaine dropped his wrist like it was on fire. Kurt was at the door and yanked it open before he managed to slow himself enough to say, “I’m really sorry.”  
  
“Kurt!”  
  
He knew he probably appeared at the bottom of the stairs looking like a crazy person, sweaty and pale, but he was pretty sure the Warblers were concerned because half a second after he tucked himself on the other side of a very confused Quinn, Blaine nearly fell down the last few steps. The room had gone quiet and Quinn looked at him before turning to look at Blaine with a glare.  
  
“Kurt, are you ready to go?” her tone was icy and Kurt just nodded, thankful. “Did you get your rabbit?”  
  
“Shit,” Kurt cursed softly and Blaine took another step but another harsh look from Quinn made him stop. “Nick has him. They’re somewhere out there. It’s going to take us too long.”  
  
“We’ve already been gone a while,” Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up. The temperature in the small room felt like it dropped a few degrees and Kurt had never been so grateful that someone so small and delicate could command a space so easily. “Are we free to go or should we be sending a carrier pigeon to get Traitor’s Hill ready?”  
  
“At least let us escort you back to the castle,” Wes said quickly. He was standing near Blaine and put a hand to his chest when Blaine tried to move closer. He shook his head firmly. “David? Thad? Garret? Can you walk them back to where ever they want to go?”  
  
“Artie-” Kurt said but couldn’t finish because he couldn’t think about coming back here.  
  
“We’ll get Artie too you,” Wes assured him. “Don’t worry about that. We have our own connections.”  
  
If David and the other two boys thought it was strange that Quinn and Kurt asked to be left at the edge of the city facing the ocean they didn’t mention it. Quinn, it seemed, had been keeping track of their journey better than Kurt had. “Please be careful if you decide to come back,” David left them with a warning as they reached the city limits. “It might have been fine today but there are a lot of angry feelings towards the royal family.”  
  
It was a long, tiring and dusty climb back up in the dark. Kurt had to concentrate to put one foot in front of the other. Quinn was climbing in front of him and he was glad it was too dark for them to see each other.  
  
“So,” Quinn said finally, her voice echoing. “That was Blaine?”  
  
“Yes,” Kurt replied. “That was Blaine.”  
  
“Cute,” Quinn grunted and a few stray pebbled showered down onto Kurt’s hands. “Intense but cute.”

“Yes, that just about sums it up.”  
  
There was another stretch of silence. Kurt almost slipped on a damp rock.  
  
“Are you going to see him again?”  
  
“No! No, that’s finished now.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“What? I can’t see him again. I’m married. To your cousin. The prince, remember? I’m pretty sure adultery is harsh if you’re cheating on the heir to a kingdom.”  
  
“You don’t have to like him, you know,” Quinn said slowly. “Dave. He can be cruel sometimes.”  
  
“And other times he’s not,” Kurt quickly defended. “Look, thank you for what happened back in the village but I’m not helpless. I can look after myself.”  
  
“I’m sure you can,” Quinn sounded exasperated.  
  
“I’m not a doll,” Kurt said grumpily because he was tired and cranky and why was everyone fighting him right now?  
  
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it.”  
  
“Yes, you did. Everyone does. But I don’t care what they think about me. I know who I am and what I’m doing.”  
  
“Kurt, we’re only trying to help-”  
  
“And I don’t need it!”  
  
That ended the conversation firmly. The stairs dragged on and Kurt was ready to lie down on the marble and sleep when they finally made it to the top. Mercedes was dozing against the wall, her basket of chores finished and off to the side. She jumped when they came up and nearly knocked the torch from the holder.  
  
“Finally!” she snapped, sounding just as tired as Kurt felt. “I was beginning to wonder if you two had killed each other.”  
  
“Nothing that dramatic,” Quinn replied with a quiet smile. “But it was a long night. The tunnel goes all the way to the lower city.”  
  
“Did you find the boys? Artie?”

“In a way,” Quinn looked at Kurt quickly but Kurt didn’t feel like speaking. “Come on, let’s go back to your rooms. I’m so tired I might just sleep on your daybed. Kurt will you be okay to-”  
  
“Yes,” Kurt said shortly. “I can walk back to Karofsky’s room, thank you.”  
  
“What’s the matter with him?” Mercedes’s voice echoed a little as they parted, the two girls heading to the servants wing and Kurt heading for the towers.  
  
He was tired enough to want to crawl into bed fully clothed but that would have been suspicious. Quietly, even though Karofsky was snoring so loudly a volcano could have erupted and he probably wouldn't hear it, he slipped off the now sullied clothes and folded them neatly on the vanity chair to be taken to the laundry the next day. He slipped into his sleeping pants and shirt before lifting the covers on his side of the bed and easing in.  
  
Karofsky moved in his sleep, Kurt had been dismayed to discover early on. Kurt tried to stay on the edge of the bed, sometimes even falling off in the middle of the night but no matter where he slept Karofsky always managed to follow him.  
  
Kurt had barely gotten comfortable when a beefy arm wrapped around his chest. Kurt tensed because he still wasn’t used to this. Karofsky moved closer, his lips smacking in his sleep as he pressed up against Kurt’s back, Kurt now uncomfortably warm.  
  
It wasn’t enough to keep the exhaustion that was slowly creeping over his eyes. He felt the tension draining out of him as his limbs grew heavy and too tired to fight.  


 

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Kurt and Karofsky had sex, real sex as Kurt thought of it, a few days later. Karofsky was a bear in the morning, grunting and scratching and wandering around blurry-eyed into things. But he stumbled into the hot spring as Kurt was soaking and it seemed that even when he was half asleep and unable to speak full sentences his hands reached automatically for Kurt’s body.  
  
Kurt almost enjoyed doing this in the hot spring. Karofsky couldn’t hold him down because they were both in danger of slipping on the wet stone and pinewood. Instead, Kurt had to brace himself on the edge, the hot water mid-thigh. Karofsky had to grip his hips, of course, but he couldn’t just mindlessly grind against Kurt without pulling out too far or losing his footing. Kurt couldn’t smell him, only the clean scent of soap and flowers, and the sweat Karofsky worked up mixed with the steam of the bath and Kurt could pretend it was just condensation. He couldn’t lean over Kurt’s ear, panting clumsy words, as he made Kurt dizzy from his weight. So instead, Kurt could quietly take just this side of too rough as Karofsky was forced to hover and take care. He could stare at his hands, relax in the heat and pretend it wasn’t him Karofsky was pounding into. He was a vessel, that was all, no different than the blankets on their bed or the broom Sam used to sweep the room. He could let his mind wander as if this was a chore, as if he was bored, instead of struggling to pretend to be anywhere but here.  
  
The only thing Kurt didn’t like was that as he let his mind drift and relax it started to feel almost good. Kurt could imagine why people would agree to do this out of wedlock. Karofsky was too rough, too hairy and just too Karofsky for Kurt to actually forget who this was but sometimes he would brush against a place instead of Kurt that sparked, like a flint on stone. He could imagine that spark becoming a flame, one day, if Karofsky could hit it the right away. He could imagine feeling safe sometimes, held by hands on his hips, canting to meet someone as they stoked a fire. He could imagine it so clearly, a deep soothing voice, smaller, slender musician fingers digging into his skin not to anchor himself but to connect them, like Kurt was a part of this as well. He could see himself, mindless as fire licked up and down his skin, two bodies entangled in the heat, their voices in unison as they rode the flames. He could almost feel the beginnings of it, lacing in his fingers, flush on his face as he imagined it, burning him from the inside, his heart racing in a mix of fear and passion.  
  
He felt warm, soothed, as he imagined it, dancing in front of him, until Karofsky broke him out of the fantasy, jerking him backwards so quickly he almost slipped, the feeling of water slapping too hot over his half hard erection startling as Karofsky groaned and shook. He pressed Kurt tightly against his hips, the last few twisting thrusts pushing away whatever Kurt had been imagining.  
  
However, conflicting feeling aside, Kurt’s favourite thing about the hot spring by far was that once Karofsky was done, taking one last dip as if that was enough to wash away what they had been doing, Kurt could slip under the water and wash Karofsky away almost instantly.  
  
He stayed there because if he waited long enough Karofsky would be gone on one of his stupid hunts again. He could wait it out in here, quiet and blank, pretending his muscles were relaxed and warm because Karofsky had made them so, like sex was supposed to. Maybe if he stayed here he could pretend that the almost erection he had gotten had been for his husband instead of Blaine. But, eventually, he knew too much heat was bad for his skin and he pulled himself out feeling wet and empty and not much else.  
  
Mercedes set him to work and he was grateful she had a use for him. She was busy with the queen’s dress but there was also a Lord’s jacket that needed to be trimmed with gold thread and Kurt loved to edge.  
  
“And they were going to being Artie back?” Mercedes may have been so busy her hands were mechanically quick and precise as they arranged pearls but her voice was free to hold the last note in a disapproving manner.  
  
“Yes,” Kurt had to concentrate on his task because the tiredness he couldn’t seem to shake was eating at the edge of his eyes. “They didn’t say how but I don’t have any reason not to trust them.”  
  
“Hm,” Mercedes pressed her lips together. It was obvious that she and Quinn had been speaking about him but Kurt was feeling too numb to be angry. “And that Blaine, you told him what you wanted to say, right?”  
  
“I’m married,” Kurt was tired of saying it because he didn’t want to have to defend it anymore. “It doesn’t matter what I want to say to him.”  
  
“It does, though,” Mercedes’s hands were steady on the beading, quick and perfect rows and her voice just as efficient. “It doesn’t matter what a piece of paper says, Kurt. You have a heart as well and you have to think about that.”  
  
“My heart,” Kurt bit out the last word because, honestly, who believed in romance anymore? It was an ideal, like world peace and a sensible pair of heels, and he was tired of trying to pursue something that didn’t exist. “That belongs to Karofsky. Dragons, mortal danger, proof of love and all that, remember? I didn’t see Blaine fighting any monsters for me.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter who fights monsters for you. Karofsky could kill an entire clan of dragons; it still won’t make him love you.”  
  
“It does matter, actually,” Kurt said, stiffly because he was starting to get annoyed that people kept making assumptions. “And I like Karofsky,” the words were thick on his tongue and he had to force them out. Mercedes gave him a look and he stubbornly picked at the edge of his thread. “I do, it just doesn’t seem that way to other people. And he likes me too.”  
  
“Does he?” Mercedes raised an eyebrow and Kurt returned to his stitching with a glare. “He doesn’t always act like it.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Kurt snapped. “He can’t give me a moment alone.”  
  
“When he’s at the castle,” Mercedes pointed out. Kurt didn’t response so she sighed and continued. “He makes fun of your hair at dinner. And he made you get rid of Artie. And he orders you around all the time.”  
  
“No he doesn’t!”  
  
“Kurt,” Mercedes said sadly and Kurt couldn’t meet her in the eye. “He yelled at you in the stable yard because he didn‘t like your shirt and you went and changed!”  
  
“I don’t like that shade of green anyway,” Kurt said stubbornly but it was a complete lie. He didn’t add that afterwards Karofsky had sorted through the few clothes he had brought with him from the tower later that night, picking out the ones he didn’t like and sent them away with Sam. Kurt had sat by numbly remembering every stitch that had gone into the clothes as Sam shot worried looks in his direction but did as he was told. It wasn’t worth it, he had thought at the time, and Karfosky had a point. He obsessed over designers so much and often hated wearing the same outfit twice. Why did he need so many clothes when they could use the room for Karofsky’s new stuffed elk?  
  
“He doesn’t respect you at all.”  
  
“Regardless,” Kurt wanted to be done with this topic. “What’s done is done and I’m the one who has to deal with it, nobody else.”  
  
“Just as long as you know,” Mercedes said and slowly picked up the next pearl. “You have people other than Karofsky who will fight for you too. People who like you for you. We want you to be happy, Kurt.”  
  
Kurt had to slow down his stitching, blinking rapidly, until he could see clearly again. He wondered with a heavy feeling why his father hadn’t written him back by now. Kurt had written him right after the wedding; he should have gotten a reply.  
  
But it was getting so hard to focus on things like time and tasks these days. Maybe less time had passed than he thought. The days were slipping by scarily vague and Kurt couldn’t quite remember how long ago the wedding had been. Kurt could barely remember eating breakfast that morning. Visiting the docks had been a sharp reminder that time passed without him and he had realised he wasn’t always entirely sure what day of the week it was.  
  
He should write another letter, just in case.  
  
He spent the day with Mercedes, shifting to other topics such as the new spring line from the opposite coast and what the hell people were thinking when they added polka dots to full petticoat jackets. He left after he finished the jacket. Mercedes had been grateful for and gave him a basket of embroidery to do at night if he couldn’t sleep again but the conversation had made him restless. He was getting too complacent, letting more and more of himself slip away and after seeing Blaine again he had started to realise how little of himself he recognized.  
  
Surely no one would notice if he slipped out through the tunnel for a few hours. The only people who had a use for him were Karfosky and Mercedes and both were busy now. He could put on some old clothes and disappear into the port. Maybe try some of the local food. He didn’t have much of an appetite these days but surprisingly the thought of fresh fish and the smell of the ocean was appealing. He could visit Wes and Brittany and help with tutoring. He had never heard about the Charter Wes had pointed out and it would be interesting to read. He might even be able to listen to the Warblers sing. He used loved the excitement of people and places. He just needed to work up the energy to love those things again.  
  
Kurt couldn’t stop his feet from drifting to Karofsky’s room, already planning an outfit that wouldn’t get him noticed. An hour or so, at most. Maybe two because it would take a while to get to the docks through tunnel. It might be late when he got back. He should take a torch. He was fairly sure he could climb the stairs with one hand as long as he could see the steps. He pushed the door to the bedroom open, lost in thought and drifting. It would be nice to see familiar faces, get a bit of life back in his day. But maybe it was a bad idea. Kurt couldn’t decide. Maybe the Warblers didn’t even want to see him. They were probably eager to dump Artie and move on since they had no work at the palace-  
  
There was a hand on his shoulder and Kurt was jerked so violently out of his thoughts he tripped over his ankle when he spun and scrambled backwards on the floor until he hit the stone vanity with his head, stunning himself.  
  
“Kurt!”  
  
Gentle fingers carded through his hair, checking his head as he tried to scramble dizzily to his feet.  
  
“Sit down!” Blaine, it was Blaine, handsome and so, so close, touching his face, hands in his hair. Head throbbing, Kurt stilled and let Blaine tilt his head until he was resting his forehead on Blaine’s soft black jacket and smelling the clean smell of soap and lilacs. He let himself lean into it, letting Blaine probe the back of his head and sucking in a deep breath when Blaine ran his hands over a small bump. “Okay, it doesn’t look too bad. Does it hurt?”  
  
Maybe it was the blow to the head, or maybe it was because of the residual memory from the smell of soap, but Kurt reached up as Blaine tried to move back and grasped his jacket.  
  
“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was worried and Kurt pulled him tighter, feeling Blaine drop from where he had been balancing on his heels to his knees, perched on either side of Kurt’s thigh, breathing in his jacket and closing his eyes. “K-kurt?” Blaine’s voice was a little shaky now. Blaine was warm, he felt good under Kurt’s hands and the empty feeling inside of his chest ached. Kurt slid his hands further around Blaine’s back, just feeling not thinking for once, and his hands came into contact with soft, warm, vibrating fur.  
  
“Oh my God!” Kurt yanked his hands back and would have crashed his head on the marble again if Blaine’s hands hadn’t still been cradling him. “Artie!”

“In the flesh,” Blaine said, voice still wavering as he moved away, shaking his fingers and wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”  
  
“I think so,” Kurt reached back to feel the bump on his head, feeling pain as he touched it but nothing terrible. He had worse injuries when he had taken fencing classes as a child. He was disappointed as Blaine put a healthy distance between them but realised, flushing a little, that perhaps groping the man that had just broken into the castle illegally was highly inappropriate. “Nothing permanent, I think. How did you get in here?”  
  
Blaine grinned wide and pointed at the open window. “Through there,” there was a lingering trace of nervousness and his voice was a little too loud and light. “You really need to talk to talk to security. That’s a safety hazard.”  
  
“Safety hazard?” Kurt wondered if maybe he had hit his head harder than he had thought because Karofsky’s rooms were on the fifth floor and outside the window was smooth, white marble. It would have been difficult for a monkey to climb it let alone a person. “Blaine, trust me, no one can get in through there.”  
  
“Sure they can,” Blaine said cheekily and he had moved entirely away now, sitting on the floor with his elbows resting on his knees but his thick soled boots rested lightly again Kurt’s inner calves. “I did, in any case. It’s just a matter of torque and physics. And some equipment. Maybe luck.”  
  
“What?”

Blaine was babbling, still nervously looking anywhere but Kurt’s face. Kurt was certain he was missing something but it was starting to hit him that Blaine was here, in the castle, and when he had imagined them talking he hadn’t pictured him here.  
  
“Uh, climbing things is a hobby of mine,” Blaine said sheepishly. “Either way, I told you I had my own ways.”  
  
“Wes told me that,” Kurt corrected and all too quickly he remembered how they had left things last night. “I thought it would be someone else.”  
  
“It nearly was,” Blaine shifted the sling on his back that Artie was tucked in and sitting quietly. Kurt wondered how he had missed the white ears perked curiously over Blaine’s shoulder. “But I wanted to apologise. I didn’t want to leave things like that between us,” he looked so earnest, his eyes soft under playful eyebrows and Kurt couldn’t help but feel his stomach flutter in a way he didn’t think would happen again and he leaned back against the stone a little. “I want you to know that I absolutely respect you and it was a horrible thing for me to think that you would cheat on your,” Blaine’s eye twitched but he did say grudgingly, “husband. No matter my opinions, there are always going to be two people involved and I wasn’t taking your feelings into account. I hope you can find yourself to forgive me and I promise, if I make you uncomfortable, I’ll leave and someone else can pick up Artie later.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I think Nick can make the climb, or Richard but he has, well, sticky fingers to say the least and I’m not sure you want him wandering around the palace unattended-”  
  
“No, what do you mean take Artie back?”  
  
“We’ve talked about it,” Blaine said gently. “And we know how much he means to you. It’s a risk keeping him here with Prince Karofsky the way he is. That is, we’ve heard stories about his, well, actually, Brittany just cries whenever she talks about his hunting trips. Apparently he shot mountain lion and she saw him bring it back. Wes had to eat, like, five pots of hot cheese in order to make her feel better. I don’t think his stomach will ever be the same. If you want, we can keep looking after him. Only when Karofsky is here, of course,” Blaine added hastily. “Plus, he’s become a sort of mascot of sorts.”  
  
“Mascot?”

“We had a bird once but do you do know how much those things sing?” Blaine was still babbling and Kurt was struck with a sudden fondness.  
  
“I would think that would be the most appropriate mascot for a singing group,” Kurt said, feeling the fondness grow into a smile as Blaine flushed.  
  
“Oh, right,” Blaine paused, looking trapped. “Uh- I mean-”  
  
“I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I already have,” Kurt finally said, clamping down on the fluttering because, though pulling Blaine into a hug earlier had been inappropriate, this was starting to feel even more so. He had to stop noticing how Blaine had rested his forearms on his knees and how his knees were splayed, pants bunching over his hips, and how much his face was flushing. Blaine was smiling, lips curving up and the back of his neck was a little pink. Kurt heart skipped when Blaine bumped his ankle friendly on Kurt’s pants.  
  
“Hey,” Blaine’s voice was soft but he didn’t move closer. “It’s not an inconvenience. We are in town until Wes says so anyway. We really want to help you out.”  
  
“It’s a running theme for the day,” Kurt said wearily and though Blaine looked curious he didn’t respond. Instead he loosened the tie around his shoulder and gently brought Artie, nose twitching wildly, around.  
  
“Hey buddy,” Kurt was thankful to see he was just as big and healthy looking as he had been when Kurt left him. He gathered him close, memories flooding back of carrying him around the tower and squabbling over why the love ballad in Just Dance didn’t need a rap interlude. It felt like a lifetime ago.  
  
“He missed you,” Blaine said eagerly. Kurt froze for a minute, worried that he had missed something but Blaine quickly added, “I mean, we think so. He always looked a little lonely and that’s pretty hard to do in a house of boys and Brittany.”  
  
“I can imagine,” Kurt said relieved. “Thank you Blaine. I don’t know what I can do to repay you-”  
  
Blaine’s eye flickered to Kurt’s lips and then he ducked his head guiltily and, oh my God, it was wrong, horrible, because Kurt had never thought he would feel this way again, but that one simple look was enough to send heat down to his toes and quicken his breath.  
  
“Just knowing you’re happy is enough,” Blaine finally replied. He quickly stood up and offered a hand to Kurt who accepted it because there was no other graceful way off the floor while holding Artie. It definitely wasn’t because the skin on skin contact was warm and thrilling even though Blaine’s hands were a little rough and clammy. They lingered until Artie squirmed where Kurt had braced him uncomfortably on an elbow and Blaine let go first sheepishly.  
  
“So,” Blaine paused, looking shy but pleased, and Kurt couldn’t put into words the warmth vibrating under his skin. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning?”  
  
“Yes,” it was embarrassing how young his voice was.  
  
“Okay,” Blaine moved to the window and stopped one last time to smile before he swung a leg over the frame and disappeared from sight. Kurt hurried over to the frame and looked out, certain he was going to see a black-clad figure sprawled on the ground below but instead he couldn’t see anything. It was almost scary and Kurt thought maybe the entire encounter had been a lonely hallucination (he had harboured many fantasies about such dashing window entrances since he first entered the tower; it was entirely possible he had finally lost his mind) but Artie was undeniable proof.  
  
“What up, son!” Artie sounded excited and Kurt pulled his head out from the window reluctantly and shifted to get a better hold on the boy.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Artie,” Kurt put him on the plush bed and Artie flopped backwards in a very un-rabbit like way with a pleased sigh.  
  
“It’s all good,” Artie burrowed his nose in Kurt’s pillow, closing his eyes in bliss. “This bed is awesome. You have no idea.”  
  
“They’ve been treating you well right? I really am sorry-“  
  
“It’s cool,” Artie said breezily. “No problem, stop worrying yourself.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Kurt frowned. He hadn’t expected this Artie to be so carefree. The last time Kurt had seen him, he had been depressed and upset, scared to be trapped in the body of an animal that was regularly eaten. He had even confessed once that sometimes when he looked in the mirror he could visualise a slowly turning spit and the delicious smell. Surely being down in the lower city where people were thinner, hungrier and less picky would have been frightening.  
  
Artie didn’t seem to notice Kurt’s confusion and instead rolled onto his belly, letting his hind legs sprawl as his ears drooped. “Yeah, yeah, the Warblers are good guys. They know how to show a rabbit a good time. But if I never have to make that climb again I will be one happy person. Blaine is insane.”  
  
“So he really did climb?” Kurt glanced back at the window. “That’s incredible.”  
  
“He’s like a spider monkey,” Artie shivered. “I thought we were going to die. Gravity shouldn’t be someone’s playground, you know. Oh my God, what is that and why is it staring at the bed?”  
  
Kurt glanced to the corner where his wardrobe had once sat and winced at the elk looking at them with glassy eyes.  
  
There was reason number three about why Kurt now preferred the bath to the bed.  
  
“Karofsky thought it would add to the décor,” Kurt said dryly. “I usually cover its head when he’s not here.”  
  
“That is disturbing,” Artie shivered. Kurt reached to the floor where Karofsky’s shirt from yesterday lay (Sam usually cleaned right before dinner) and tossed it lightly over the animal’s head. He certainly hadn’t been expecting company. Over the last few days he had stopped picking up after Karofsky. The room was littered with his clothes and boots and Kurt hadn’t been able to bring himself to care anymore. Now, though, he felt irritated at Karofsky because Blaine must think he was a slob. “Seriously, why is it here? When I suggested putting up those old drawings in the tower you flipped out on me.”

“Because I wasn’t about to spent the next year staring at something my great grandfather drew because he was lonely!” Kurt shuddered when he remembered the old, graphic (much, much too graphic) scrolls Artie had found under the bed. He didn’t want to think about why they had been within easy reach and he certainly didn’t want to think about them now. “This is different.”  
  
“You’d rather have the ugliest woodland creature I have ever seen watch you get naked instead of a hot blonde?” Artie said a bit disapprovingly. “Look, Kurt, I know you’re a very unique person but-“  
  
“That’s not it at all!” Kurt couldn’t stop a smile from creeping over his face.  
  
“I’m just saying I’m not sleeping in here if that thing is going to be making sad, dead deer eyes at me all night. You’ve got to move it man. I’m serious, can’t you order someone to take it out back and shoot it- again, I guess? Arg, it stinks too. This nose is way better than yours but come on.”  
  
Laughing, Kurt went and found Sam who had to recruit several other servants to wrestle the stuffed animal out the door. Kurt didn’t really care where they took it but he felt lighter somehow with it gone. Sam had smiled too even though most of the other men were scowling. They had only just gotten it up the stairs and through the door a few days ago after all. But Kurt was used to those kinds of looks people gave him, like they wanted to say something about his insufferable requests, like when he turned away a whole roll of green fabric because the shade was off or wouldn’t sign off on the council’s request to stop wheat substitutes because they wanted to fund clear cutting. He felt a little bad, it was a pretty stupid request, but he felt like the sun had started to shine again and it was difficult to feel guilty about that.  
  
Hanging out with Artie for the rest of the night was something he had missed, of course, but he didn’t realise just how much. It wasn’t the same as Mercedes. He was close to the girl, and growing closer to Quinn, but it was a very different relationship. He had felt broken and fractured and had clung to their friendship because it was the only thing keeping him afloat. He was closer with Mercedes, she had seen him at his lowest, but with Artie he could forget about everything since the wedding because Artie didn’t know that part existed. It was easier to hide and put it behind him and for a brief few hours his life had nothing to do with Karofsky.  
  
The bedroom even felt a little like the tower, which was something Kurt didn’t think he would have been nostalgic about. It was just the two of them again, talking and squabbling about stupid things. Artie told him wild tales about the Warblers that sounded the same as the ones he told about hero worshipping the tournaments. Kurt forced him to re-listen to score after score of the play he had been working on before the big rescue. Artie made fun of him because he hadn’t made any progress and Kurt was grateful he could still make snappy comebacks.  
  
Soon, it was dark and Kurt had to go to the kitchen to bring back dinner. Artie had explored the room with his slow gait, making sure to comment on everything and Kurt couldn’t help but think maybe Artie had missed him too. When he brought it up, Artie was flippant.  
  
“Sure, I missed endless discussions of musical theatre and organic cotton,” Artie rolled his eyes. “But it was more interesting than some of the Warbler conversations, granted.”  
  
“Because you couldn’t make awkward offbeat comments no one laughs at?”  
  
“Haha, no,” Artie scowled. “Because Blaine was like my mother hovering almost every minute and he wouldn’t shut up about you.”  
  
Kurt hadn’t expected that. “W-what? Me? What would he have to say about me?”  
  
“Are you serious?” Artie stopped from nonchalantly cleaning his ears (it seemed that the more time Artie spent as a rabbit, the more habits he slipped into. Kurt made fun of him for his new carrot obsession and Artie almost bit his finger off). “The boy is living in the red light district, scaling castle walls and reading up about overseas fashion designers just in case you come to your senses. It would be stalkerish if he wasn’t such a goddamn gentleman.”  
  
Kurt’s face grew hotter and hotter as Artie spoke and he had to clench his hands to keep them from trembling. “Come on, he can’t be that bad.”  
  
“Dude, if I had someone who was that into me I’d tap it faster than a three legged pirate on a toothless prostitute.”  
  
“A what?”

“You hear things in the brothel.”  
  
“I repeat, what?”  
  
“You need to get over your fidelity issues, man,” Artie decided it wasn’t worth his time to explain off colour jokes. “You should see the way he talks about you, it’s seriously sickening. But, you know, if you want to keep being stupid and have a huge hairy beast cockblocking you than that’s your call.”  
  
Kurt paused, processed the sentence and replied, “I‘m not entirely sure, because I don’t really understand what the third leg of a pirate is, but I think being with the Warblers has really made you into a better person.”  
  
“What can I say? They can change a man.”  
  
“That they do,” Kurt said quietly. Maybe Artie and Mercedes were right. He had been waiting for happiness, waiting for something to happen between Karofsky and himself. But it wasn’t going to happen, he realised, shocked at how glaringly obvious it was now that he thought about it. He had gone in that tower even though it was against everything he believed in. It was the right thing to do, both for the kingdom and, well, okay so maybe the idea of a prince whisking him away was romantic.  
  
He had married Karofsky out of, sure, a sense of duty. But the country he had been preparing his whole life to take care of had cast him aside because of tradition. However, Kurt hadn’t been able to let that sense of duty just die so easily. His country needed his body not his mind and it wasn’t so difficult a switch. But now, it seemed he had no duty to them. At least, not through this. This marriage wasn’t going to be political, it had been a way for them to get rid of him, he swallowed hard. Maybe the country didn’t feel that way and certainly his father didn’t but the council and him and never seen eye to eye. He had been stupid to believe they had voted this without ulterior motives.  
  
Also, he had always tried to be a strong, self-rescuing kind of prince. He only had his father to rely on and everyone else relied on them so he had never pictured himself in the position of the damsel. It had been exciting, different, a relief, to think that his happiness was someone else’s responsibility. Maybe he had been felt too betrayed by the council to be thinking clearly but it had almost seemed like a good idea to let someone do something for him for a change instead of fighting to be heard all the time.  
  
But, maybe, he hadn’t thought it through thoroughly. He hadn’t realised how much official papers would rob him of his free choice. Theoretically he had known it but it was one thing to think it and another to live it. He had been systemically shut out of the political and social system here. He was basically a servant for Karofsky, a somewhat stupid boy who cared little for hygiene or other people. He had no real power, no real use except as a warm body.  
  
He had Mercedes which at least made him feel like his talents were needed but even she was locked into a life where she had to sew ugly peach coloured braids on to baby blue dresses because someone else, someone who couldn’t do it for themselves, wanted her to. She had no real power either except for the clothing line she designed in her free time but at least it made her happy some of the time. Kurt had no such outlets, he realised.  
  
He certainly had felt adult and worldly when he had made the decision to go into the tower, certain he had seen everything life had to offer. Surely the Coast (and the image of it he had built up in his mind) wasn’t as grand as everyone had said it was. But now he felt like he had been a naïve child thinking he could bring something beautiful by going along with traditions that had warped to become twisted and ugly.  
  
This wasn’t who he was, who he wanted to be. He had never been this quiet, meek, boy who rolled over like a dog when asked. He was Prince Kurt Elisabeth Hummel, he wrote musicals, fought for children’s rights and organic vegetables, designed his own clothes because no one else could make them the way he wanted, and he didn’t go along with pieces of paper just because they were there.  
  
He was Kurt fucking Hummel and he was tired of having the name of Karofsky dangling on the end of his name, knocking him off balance.  
  
Artie was staring at him and Kurt realised he had he looking crazily at the empty corner with a blank look. Artie cleared his throat before saying, “Uh, you do know I wasn’t talking about the deer right? Huge hairy beast is Karofsky.”  
  
“I know,” Kurt said and Artie looked surprised at the strength in his voice. But Kurt just smiled, resolve and fire pumping through him because he was Kurt Hummel and it felt good to be thinking that again. But, he smiled reassuringly to his friend. “I’m actually a bit tired. Do you mind if we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”  
  
“I was strapped to the world’s most human-like bouncy ball today,” Artie said. “Sleep is something I can do.”  
  
Kurt wasn’t tired, in fact he felt like his blood was vibrating. Artie dropped off to sleep easily and Kurt spent the night lost in thought and planning for the morning.  
  
He brought Artie down to Mercedes early the next day. Mercedes was awake, still finishing the last of the queen’s dress. Quinn was there as well. She couldn’t sew as well as Kurt or Mercedes but Mercedes harboured books for her under her thread table. Quinn often came down to read as well as talk. Mercedes’s hands were too busy to sit like Quinn could but Quinn could read aloud. Both girls stopped what they were doing and started to fawn over Artie who clearly enjoyed the attention.  
  
“He’s so fluffy!” Quinn hugged him closer and Kurt couldn’t help but turn a bit red out of embarrassment for her as Artie snuggled closer. “And a darling!”  
  
“Thanks,” Kurt said quickly. “Would you two mind looking after him for a bit? I was going to soak in the bath but it’s too steamy in there for him. I don’t want to leave him in the room in case he causes trouble. I wouldn’t want Karofsky to notice.”  
  
Artie paused from where he was rubbing his whiskers against Quinn’s collarbone to glare at him but he kept his mouth shut.  
  
“So you want to leave him here to get into my button collection?” Mercedes said dryly. Kurt went to protest but she just laughed and waved him off, promising that two girls would keep an eye on him for a few hours.  
  
Blaine arrived shortly after, right on schedule. Kurt was waiting, clamping down on his nerves because he had been practising the dialogue in his head and had even done a preliminary performance in front of the mirror.  
  
The entrance was much less graceful than the exit had been. Blaine was red in the face and sweating as he pulled first his shoulders then one leg over the window. Kurt wanted quietly, standing against the wall, unable to take his eyes off Blaine as he tumbled onto the floor and lay flat on his back gasping for breath. Finally, he rolled to his feet and noticed Kurt for the first time.  
  
“Oh my God!” he nearly fell out the window again as he jumped back, clutching at his chest. “Kurt? What the- why are you just standing there?”  
  
“Sorry,” Kurt said not sorry at all as he let his eyes wander freely for the first time. Blaine was in black again. His pants were just baggy enough for movement but not so much that they would snag. He had tucked them into thick soled black boots. He had on a wool sweater, high necked and tucked into leather patched gloves that he was pulling off. His hair was still a little sweaty from the climb and it looked like he had shaved recently because the dark shadow was gone from around his jaw. It made him look younger. Kurt swallowed hard because he had known what he wanted but right now the urge to press him against the window frame was stronger than ever before. Apparently his face had given him away because Blaine had started to look nervous and glanced around the room.  
  
“Where’s Artie?”  
  
“He’s visiting Quinn,” Kurt said and started to take a few steps forward, not really feeling anything but his heartbeat in his ears. His skin felt alive and drawn towards where Blaine was slowly sinking back against the wall.  
  
“So it’s just the two of us?” Blaine’s voice was a little higher than normal and Kurt stopped, just outside of touching him but the air feeling tangible between them.  
  
“Yes,” Kurt didn’t know where this voice was coming from but he couldn’t stop it and carefully placed a hand beside Blaine’s head, leaving him a chance to escape, just in case, a voice niggled worryingly in the back of his head. Blaine didn’t look like he wanted to escape though. He shrank a little, making the slight height different between them more distinguishable and Kurt couldn’t stop himself from leaning in a fraction closer so he could get the scent of clean, hardworking sweat under the flower water Blaine had used that morning.  
  
“W-what’s going on?” because it was impossible to keep up a premise right now and Kurt was grateful to jump again in the script because he was already forgetting his lines.  
  
“It’s come to my attention that I’ve been denying myself some things that are actually quite available to me,” Kurt said, feeling Blaine shiver a little as he leaned just a smidge in so that his breath could wash over Blaine’s smooth cheek. He heard a faint whimper and it was nearly his undoing. “And I’ve been pretty dumb to not take advantage of them.”  
  
He could almost hear Blaine’s heart beating and it was that sound that calmed him. He could almost understand how Karofsky could get so excited, towering over Kurt as he pinned Kurt to the wall, but this was so much different. He knew he had never looked like Blaine did right now. His pupils were blown and his breath was hard. His palms were pressed flat against the marble but it looked like he was using it to hold himself up rather than to get away. He had his head tilted up, eyelashes fanning over half lids and his lips were parted, inviting. It felt like he was in constant movement despite being kept still by nothing but Kurt’s heated look and Kurt could see his lips curved up, his eyes bright and excited despite being a little struck and he shifted slightly, arching until his sweater pressed Kurt’s cotton shirt.  
  
“What makes you think I’m available?” Blaine’s voice was strangled and Kurt didn’t realise that he needed Blaine to be like this. He needed Blaine to be eager, a touch of nervous, a little shaky and waiting for him, because if it had been like before, if he was the one waiting for cues, he knew he wouldn’t be half as excited.  
  
“Are you?” Kurt voice cracked a little because he was sure, of course he was sure, but maybe- he would never be able to unless Blaine-  
  
“Yeah,” Blaine answered quickly, with a smug look and maybe Kurt had been wrong about needing to be the one in charge because Blaine tilted up slightly and met him in a kiss, chaste and gentle. It was like it had been in the lower city, sweet and hungry at the same time. Blaine’s head was resting against the wall and Kurt gave into his urge, pulling his free hand up from where it felt like dead weight and brushing the skin below Blaine’s ear, sighing a little when he found a rough patch that had missed the blade. Blaine shivered again, taking his hands from the wall and wrapping them tentatively around Kurt’s waist. He brushed his fingers over Kurt’s loose cotton shirt, pressing his thumbs into the waist of his pants under that.  
  
He groaned, not meaning to, into Blaine’s mouth and Blaine’s lip parted a little, tongue brushing forward, waiting hesitantly until Kurt met him. It was more than sparks, he thought dizzily, as they deepened, hands finding firmer grasps because it felt like falling. Kurt pressed closer, wanting to feel, ignoring the part of his brain that shook a little at the feeling of hands pulling at him. It was different, and Blaine’s hands slowly calmed him, rubbing in circles and holding firm not bruising and Kurt let himself melt, his belly feeling the texture of wool through the cotton, the front of his pants too tight as Blaine shifted his feet and slid a foot between Kurt’s.  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine moaned into his mouth when they pulled back to breathe. Kurt didn’t want to move away, he didn’t want to think about it because he was scared about what his body would do. He didn’t want to fall into routine; he wanted to chase the feelings rushing though him because he was afraid they would run their course.  
  
But the feelings didn’t fade. Instead, they grew as Blaine seemed to not want distance either. He ground up, the hands on Kurt’s waist encouraging him to line their hips better and Kurt gasped into Blaine’s sweater. Kurt had let go of the wall, of Blaine’s face because he had to hold on to Blaine’s shoulders. He didn’t care his wrists were being crushed against the wall because Blaine had taken full advantage of his loose white collar and was kissing open mouthed along his neck.  
  
“Kurt, are you sure?” the words were muffled against his skin.  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt’s reply was not as blasé as Blaine’s but Blaine took it seriously and pushed at him until they were moving away from the wall, stumbling towards the bed. They were fumbling with shirts, Kurt’s coming off easily because he had plans and Blaine’s collar catching on his chin. It was good, a moment of nervous giggles and muffled curses which made it more real, more Blaine, and Kurt fell on the bed half on top of Blaine, a leg still nudged between his and he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing again it with a gasp.  
  
There was bare skin against bare skin and the uncomfortable flashes of sweaty, panting, chafing with Karofsky slowly faded as Blaine ran his hands down Kurt’s arms, as if he was pushing everything side, washing everything anew and Kurt couldn’t help but feel like each soothing touch was making his heart bleed clean.  
  
“I’ve wanted,” Blaine panted, low and broken as Kurt tentatively ran his tongue across his throat, grateful for something he hadn’t ever done before. “So long. Thought I imagined you,” he laughed at that, the vibrations against Kurt’s lips.  
  
“Me too,” Kurt said and soon their pants were being loosened. Blaine’s shoes were heavy and dangerous as they struggled with buttons and laces and he had to pull away. Kurt nervously moved further on to the bed, thumbs hooked unsure into his waistband. Finally, Blaine kicked the last one with a triumphant curse and turned to crawl towards him, stopping when he straddled his hips, smile wide and excited, erections just brushing through their clothes, and Kurt was thankful Blaine was so infectious.  
  
“Tell me what you want,” Blaine panted his hands covering Kurt’s, encouraging but not forceful. “Please, you have to tell me what you want. I need to hear it.”  
  
“I want to be happy,” Kurt said, the words not what he had planned and he scrambled to find the ones he rehearsed with a stab a fear. “I just- being with you. I want you to touch me.”  
  
Blaine paused and frowned a little. Kurt thought for a minute he might die as his heart threatened to pound through his skin, fear almost replacing arousal but then Blaine nodded and they were kissing again, rolling hips and generating heat as Kurt’s clothes inched off. He didn’t have time to think as Blaine took a hold of him for the first time. Kurt gripped his arms, breathed him in, to make sure he was really here, that this wasn’t a nightmare.  
  
“Like this?” Blaine was whispering and his voice was as unsteady as Kurt felt. “Is this okay? I’ve never-“  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt gasped out because he hadn’t expected to be the experienced one. “Like that only- tighter. Just- oh my God, yes-“  
  
It had been a while since he had felt like this. Karofsky had done this on their wedding night but it was fuzzy because Kurt had been drunk and he hadn’t felt an urge to do this by himself in a long while. It was going to be over quickly, he bit his lip, digging his nails into Blaine’s back because he liked the way Blaine gasped against his shoulder. Embarrassingly quickly but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop it or make it longer because he was afraid he might not be able to reach this point again when they progressed further. It had been so long and he felt almost guiltily in his selfishness but he couldn’t form the words to warn Blaine. So he stayed silent, letting Blaine pull at him and gripped Blaine’s hips with his knees until he came with a sob, jerking and spilling into Blaine’s fist as the other boy stopped, surprised, before guiding Kurt through it hesitantly.  
  
After what felt like a lifetime, Kurt could feel his body turn boneless and relaxed in a way it hadn’t been for a while and he felt like sinking into the soft bed. Blaine was still over him panting and looking a little dazed as he still held Kurt’s cock in his hands, his fingers sticky.  
  
“Kurt, that was-“  
  
“M’sorry,” Kurt mumbled, wishing he had the strength to pull a pillow over his head but not wanting to move that much. “I just- you can still, you know, if you want.”  
  
“What?” Blaine asked still a little breathless. “I can do what?”  
  
“You know,” Kurt couldn’t believe he was blushing, not after all this time. “You can, in me, if you want. There’s oil on the stand.”  
  
“There’s-“ Blaine didn’t seem to be thinking clearly but he looked at the stand and back at Kurt and his eyes looked a little more focused. “Oh, you mean- Are you sure? We can wait, or not do that. You just, uh, you know,” Kurt was a little grateful that Blaine was blushing too. “We have time, right?”  
  
“Yes, but,” Kurt was confused and hesitated a minute. “Karofsky always said that he couldn’t wait. I just thought you needed to, uh, hurry as well.”  
  
Blaine went from confused to understanding then angry. He slowly let go of Kurt, which was good because he was starting to get sensitive but bad because the dreamy state was leaving quickly, like someone opened a window in the middle of winter. “Kurt, boys don’t- I’m not like Karofsky. I can wait, if you‘re not ready. You should know that,” he said a little quietly and Kurt didn’t want to listen to the touch of sadness in his voice. “You’re a boy too.”  
  
“Obviously,” and Kurt kind of wished that Blaine would get off of him right now. He didn’t need Blaine’s advice. He was the married one here, he should know more about these things. Now Blaine had a pitying look on his face and Kurt struggled to sit up feeling embarrassed. Blaine scooted back to Kurt’s knees, letting him sit up but not moving away so Kurt grabbed for a pillow. He couldn’t even enjoy his own goddamn afterglow, he thought as he pulled it over his lap, red from anger and fingers shaking.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, clearly at a loss but Kurt was finding it hard to feel sorry for him when he was looking at him like that. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-“  
  
“No, that’s fine,” Kurt couldn’t look at him but stared at the pillow instead. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself, or bury himself under a million blankets because the way he felt Blaine’s eyes on him made him feel more than just naked. “But maybe you should leave.”  
  
“Kurt, we need to talk about this,” Blaine wasn’t get up and Kurt wasn’t sure he could make him. “I thought you wanted this.”  
  
“I did!” Kurt flashed him an angry glare. “I do! You’re the one who stopped.”  
  
“I just want to make sure we understand each other,” Blaine said slowly, like he was talking to a caged animal, and it just made Kurt that much angrier. “We don’t have to do anything.”  
  
“I know!” Kurt shot back. “I did though, want to do things. You‘re the one questioning my manhood!”  
  
“Hey,” Blaine said and though he was gentle Kurt could feel the words pricking across his skin. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to make sure you know what you want.”  
  
“I know what I want,” Kurt said sharply. “I’m not a child. I want you to stop treating me like glass. I’m not damaged,” Kurt said as convincingly as he could. “And I know what I want and who I want it with. So, I want you to touch me.”  
  
Blaine had a smile slowly creeping over his face and Kurt felt more irritated but the embarrassment he had moments ago faded as Blaine obediently leaned forward and slid his hands on Kurt’s waist above the pillow.  
  
“And, I want you to kiss me,” Kurt said and he closed his eyes, the edge of anxiety disappearing as Blaine leaned into do just that. “I want you to do that,” he said against Blaine’s lips. “Because that’s what makes me happy.”  
  
“Okay,” Blaine said and kissed him again, apologetically. He raised up and pushed back until Kurt was flat against the bed again. The pillow moved sticky and a little gross on Kurt’s stomach so he pulled it from between them. He was too spent to respond but he could feel Blaine through Blaine’s pants still mostly hard against his hip and he reached down to undo them.  
  
“I want to touch you,” Kurt continued because he knew a good dialogue when he heard one. It seemed like Blaine was enjoying his words too because he gasped as Kurt wrapped a hand around him, still in his clothes. “I want to do this Blaine, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Blaine said again, this time a little quicker and less coherently as Kurt slid his hand further into Blaine’s pants. “Okay, okay, so, so okay.”  
  
This was what Kurt wanted. Exactly this. He wanted a boy over him, Karofsky hadn’t ruined that. The earlier anger gone almost entirely and replaced with a satisfied giddiness because he had been a little afraid Blaine had a reason to be worried. But no, this was perfect. He had no reason to be afraid of this because he could never mistake Blaine for Karofsky, not even a little. He felt too much pride at watching Blaine’s face blushing and shaking as Kurt pulled slowly on his skin, letting his fingers drag. There was no sick pit in his stomach as Blaine had to brace himself on his elbows to keep from collapsing. There was no shame as Blaine touched him with bare skin, nuzzled into his hair line.  
  
He twisted his palm, surprisingly grateful he had learned how to do this on Karofsky, and Blaine moaned into his skin. His knees were splayed so his thighs were nearly touching Kurt and Kurt wished he had taken off Blaine’s pants because there wasn’t enough room, he couldn’t see from his angle. But it was intoxicating to watch Blaine shudder and cry out over him, so sensitive and reactive to each movement Kurt made.  
  
He may have learned some things from Karofsky but he hadn’t learned this. Karofsky had never looked like this, never looked broken and venerable. It wasn’t a power struggle, Kurt realised suddenly as Blaine jerked into his palm, his thighs trembling at the strain. He had done this with Karofsky, his hand like this, but he had never felt this mix of control and venerability. This wasn’t about taking someone over. It wasn’t even about reducing someone, like Blaine looked now, making panting, rough noises like he couldn’t vocalise anything else, like Kurt had made him into something less than himself. He wasn’t less, he wasn’t stripped or taken down to his core, or laid bare. He wasn’t venerable or powerless like Kurt had thought it would be. He had let  _Kurt_ do this to him. He was letting Kurt see him like this and it wasn’t degrading or dirty or selfish. It was amazing, the trust Blaine had so instinctively and naturally. He was panting, mewing animal-like noises for Kurt because he could and Kurt wouldn’t think him an animal, a piece of property. He knew Kurt would see him and think  _BlaineBlaine, this is Blaine_. It humbled him and made him feel guilty that he himself was so guarded, that he had gone into this with experience and wished that he could rewind time to the tent, in the forest, with whispered  _I wanted to tell you_  echoing in his ear.  
  
“Kurt- I’m- arg, this is going to be over quickly if you keep doing that,” Blaine said the words fast like if he tried to pause to breath he wouldn’t be able to start them again. Kurt pulled steadily, thinking about the tent, wishing he was back there, angry that he wasn’t, but unconflicted with what was happening right now because maybe Blaine could teach him how to be like this.  
  
“I want you to,” Kurt said, breathy right into Blaine’s ear earning a shudder. “I want you to-“  
  
But those words were enough and Blaine cried out against Kurt’s neck, his teeth scraping skin as warmth shot over the inside of Kurt’s wrist, falling onto his stomach, going and going as Kurt stroked him through it, whispering nonsense soothing words as Blaine shuddered against him. He slowly relaxed and his weight pressed Kurt to the bed but it was comfortable, anchoring, and he could hear his heartbeat an inch from Blaine’s, only skin and bone separating them.  
  
“I love you,” Blaine was whispering, kissing his neck like he was fevered. “Please, please, don’t go back to Karofsky, please, come with me. Please, ask me. Please tell me you want it.”  
  
“I can’t,” Kurt wanted to cry because it was over, this was over, and he felt helpless, broken because it couldn’t happen again. What had he been thinking, Blaine couldn’t teach him anything because they were over. He couldn’t go back to Karofsky, not now, not knowing what this could be like, but how could he leave? Marriage paper burned but Karofsky was etched deep into him like an ugly scar that would never go away. He couldn’t leave, there was no where he could go where Karofsky couldn’t find him and bring him back like a stuffed trophy. “Blaine, I wish I could tell you different but-“  
  
“Kurt just say the goddamn words,” Blaine was still holding him, clutching at him like he was afraid he was going to run away again. “Just ask me to save you and I will.”  
  
“I don’t need to be saved,” Kurt was quiet but he held Blaine wishing Blaine could feel what he wanted to say instead.  
  
“I didn’t ask if you needed it,” Blaine said, finally pulling away, his breath steadier, deeper but desperate. “Tell me you want it.”  
  
“Of course I want it,” Kurt couldn’t understand why Blaine was looking at him so openly, his eyes needy. He looked almost like a starved man begging Kurt for a meal. Kurt wanted to give him it, wanted to know what words Blaine needed. “I would go with you, I would but Karofsky will find us, don’t you get it?”  
  
“He won’t,” Blaine insisted. “Just tell me and he won’t.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Kurt was getting worried, the look in Blaine’s eyes was growing wild and frantic and there was something he was missing.  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine seemed to realise he was driving Kurt away because he leaned back, giving them both room to breathe before saying low and steady but quickly as if he was running out of time. “If you ask me I can take you away to a place where Karofsky can’t find us. All you need to do is tell me that’s what you want and I promise I can do it. Please, trust me.”  
  
“I do,” Kurt was scared because the air around them was sparking like magic, like the tension that had built back up between them was heavy and almost tangible. He didn’t understand, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this was when they were supposed to be satiate and quiet and drained. This had been sex, right, real sex because what he had done with Karofsky didn't seem like sex at all now that he thought about it.   
  
“Say it.”  
  
“Blaine, you’re scaring me.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Blaine ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated but the action calmed him a little and he took another bracing breath. “Kurt, please.”  
  
“Okay,” Kurt said slowly. “Blaine, you can promise?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“All right. If you can do it, I want to come with you.”  
  
“Come with me where?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kurt frowned. “Anywhere. Away from Karofsky.”  
  
“So you want to come with me and leave Karofsky forever?”  
  
“Yes,” Kurt threw his hands up at that in defeat. “I, Kurt Hummel, want you, Blaine, uh, Warbler, to take me away from Karofsky so I never have to see him again.”  
  
“Because you’re unhappy,” it should be illegal for someone to look so good after doing something so sweaty involving so many body fluids. His hair was wrecked and his chest was sweaty and sticky but his face was split wide in a crazed smile and Kurt couldn’t help but fall into it again.  
  
“Because you make me happy,” he said simply and Blaine kissed him laughing and there was a warm tingling all over Kurt’s body and he thought he could hear birds.  
  
“Okay, let’s get your stuff.”  
  
“Wait- you meant right now?” Kurt frowned as Blaine climbed off the bed, fastening his pants quickly and tossing Kurt his. He had to duck a little but caught them just in time for his shirt to also be flung in his face. “Blaine, what are you doing?”  
  
“We have to go, now, before he comes back.”  
  
“He won’t be back for a bit,” Kurt said, refusing to indulge Blaine further until he got answers.  
  
“Trust me,” Blaine said muffled by the fabric of his sweater but his head popped out the neck and he kept talking as he struggled to find the arms. “He’ll be back soon enough. I’m pretty sure that was loud enough to make him magic himself back.”  
  
“What was loud enough? Blaine, I’m pretty sure even with the window open-”  
  
“Where are your clothes?” Blaine said, tying his laces. “You had so many.”  
  
“They’re gone,” Kurt said trying for casual but failing and Blaine paused. “Karofsky needed the room.”  
  
“But, I thought he was going to get them back for you,” Blaine had his second boot half laced. “He promised in the woods, when you asked him. You had so many things.”  
  
“I have you now, right?” Kurt tried to tease but Blaine’s jaw was tight. He finished with his laces and tugged Kurt to his feet, wrapping him in a scratchy embrace because that sweater wasn’t nearly as soft as the previous one. “Kurt-”  
  
“Well, I have these clothes,” Kurt pulled back, embarrassment coming back now that Blaine was looking closely around the room. “They’ll work for a while.”  
  
“Okay, put them on, we have to grab Artie and go.”  
  
“I still don’t understand why we are in such a hurry,” Kurt grumbled and stepped into his pants. Blaine had moved to the window and was calmly scanning the grounds. “Karofsky is at least a day’s ride out-”  
  
But Kurt didn’t get to finish his sentence because as he tied the laces to his pants there was a thundering rumble outside the door and Kurt knew it to be the rushing feet of several guards. He froze but Blaine just braced himself against the window frame as the door burst open and the men bottle necked into the room, Karofsky at the front, his face red and twisted in anger.

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 5**

 

The room was a ten step by ten step circular space of tension filled with a hard straw bed Kurt couldn’t bring himself to sit on and a humiliating chamber pot he refused to use. There wasn’t a window just a skinny gap between the roof and the wall just out of reach along the top of the tower which provided scant sunlight. The door was heavy, old oak, and as thick as his palm. Even if he could think of a way past of either escape routes there was a ten story drop outside the room and two heavy set armed guards outside the door.

 

But it was better than Karofsky’s room. That hadn’t been a scene that left much for the imagination. The room had stank of sex. Kurt had been still shirtless and in the middle of fixing his pants. Blaine’s lips had been red and there was a damning mark right under his jaw. Karofsky had looked stunned but angry, like a bull that hadn’t decided whether it should go after the red cloth or the bull fighter. They were a tableau of cliché (the wronged spouse and the cheating couple; Kurt was sure that was what everyone was seeing) before Karofsky shakily nodded his chin in a silent order and the guards hovering inside the doorframe hurried to restrain Blaine. 

 

Blaine didn’t fight. He let him take his arms roughly and hold him, fortunately clothed because Kurt was certain Karofsky would not give him time to get dressed. Kurt, however, grabbed his shirt from the floor and jerkily pulled it over his head. 

 

“I can’t believe you,” Karofsky’s face was pale except for a flush of red that Kurt was shocked to see. The other boy looked almost betrayed and Kurt wished he could stop the twisting ball of dread starting to form in his stomach amid his rising confusion. He tried to turn it into anger because that was his best weapon of defense and he was certainly going to need to be the one to protect Blaine right now.  

 

“What?” Kurt bit out, finally looked up to meet Karofsky’s eyes. He had been expecting violence and anger and had braced himself for at least a little pain. Blaine was scrappy, certainly, but he definitely hadn’t expected Blaine to take on Karofsky alone. But Karofsky didn’t look like Kurt had thought he would. There was no hard emotion, no rage in his expression at all. Instead he just looked horribly shocked and sad. Kurt could feel his blood pounding through his limbs because that was wrong those were Kurt’s emotions and he clenched his jaw hard. Karofsky was looking at him, not even sparing a glance to Blaine, and Kurt levelled him with a hard looked because _the bastard wasn’t supposed to look sad_. That must have been the thing to snap Karofsky because his face hardened ( _finally_ ) and Kurt almost gave a sigh of relief. 

 

“I knew that he-“ Karofsky gestured to Blaine who kept passive. “I knew that he had  _feelings_ or some shit for you but-“

 

“But what?” Kurt voice went slightly shrill and he winced. “We never had something!  _You forced me to marry you_!”

 

“I did not!” Karofsky snapped back and Kurt couldn’t tell if his hands were shaking from anger, fear or exhausting relief. “You came with me! And I’m pretty sure we both said yes at the altar!”

 

“It’s not like I had much of a choice!” Kurt could feel Blaine watching him but he look at him right now because this was between Kurt and Karofsky. “Did you really think I wanted to be up in that tower just waiting for the first person stupid enough to take on a couple of dragons?”

 

“Why else would you be up there?” Karofsky shot back and took a step forward. Kurt couldn’t help it; he shrank back a fraction of an inch and Karofsky paused because, Kurt realised suddenly, Karofsky hadn’t noticed any or it before. It was a stunning blow but  _how stupid was Karofsky_  if he never noticed and  _how stupid was Kurt_ that he hadn’t realised that before. But it wasn’t important, Kurt tightened his fists to steel himself again. He had spent so long feeling weird and lost and drifting; that was Karofsky’s fault, surely, and it didn’t matter if Karofsky pled ignorance now because it was too late for Kurt to feel sorry for him. 

 

It was definitely too late, Kurt thought uncertainly to himself.

 

“Because- I don’t know!” Kurt snapped. “Because I thought I had to be! I thought things would be different! I thought it was where I needed to be because I thought it would help my people- my real people – back home. ”

 

“What, you mean those pansy, money hoarders you and your snivelling father baby so much?” Karofsky sneered and Kurt saw red. He took a rash step forward, pausing only when the remaining guards behind Karofsky tensed up. “Yeah,” Karofsky smiled cruelly because he had hit a nerve but his voice was still shaking. “My dad’s told me about your precious kingdom. It seems to me you should be grateful I saved you from being a carpet for your stupid people to walk all over. At least here they know who’s in charge!”

 

“Ha,” Kurt’s voice was shaking as well. “Yeah, really nice life I’m living here. Just waiting around until you want me, as if I’m some kind of personal whore.”

 

“Kurt-“ but Kurt cut Blaine off with a slight lift of his fingers and it was  _glorious_ to have that much control over a room again. His stomach twisted, though, because Blaine felt so silent so quickly and Kurt did look at him then. But Blaine just smiled at him tightly and Kurt looked back when Karofsky spoke.

 

 “That’s not true at all!” Karofsky sounded pissed off and he gestured roughly toward Kurt. “You’re my freaking husband.”

 

“It sure doesn’t feel that way,” it was a great feeling to be speaking like this. Kurt felt like something had laced a poisonous wound and he was bleeding out all the hate and frustration he had kept inside. He felt sharp, wild and he could see his words cutting into Karofsky. “Did you really think I enjoyed what you did to me? Or are you that stupid?”

 

“Hey!” this time it was Karofsky who took a step back. The guards were tense behind him but they stood fast, waiting for orders, and Kurt licked his lips because he was starting to feel a little drunk. “You never said stop!”

 

“And I never said yes!” Kurt sound see it, physically see the wounds he was cutting into Karofsky and it felt amazing though with each hard  _thumpthump_  of glee in his chest he could feel a small backlash of guilt. “After our stupid sham of a wedding, I never said yes!”

 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?”

 

“How could you not?” Blaine spoke again and one of the guards stomped on his leather soled boots with his steel hard ones and Blaine let out a cry and would have buckled to the ground if they weren’t holding him so tight.

 

“Blaine!” Kurt took a step in his direction just like that the floor felt like it was tilting. There was so much activity: one of the guards let go of Blaine to shove Kurt back so hard he hit the wall painfully; Blaine’s scream died but he was still whimpered in pain as the remaining guard twisted his arm to keep him up; Karofsky had moved towards Kurt like he was going to catch him but didn’t make it in time; and the remaining guards came with weapons drawn, adding to the chaos. It was Karofsky who settled the room, shouting at the guards to stand down and  _damn_ , Kurt could only hold the back of his head, wishing for the ringing in his ears to dull while swallowing hard to keep bile down. 

 

“Take him down to the cells,” Karofsky said sharply at the guards and Kurt let himself sink, staring at Blaine as they pulled him, stumbling. 

 

Whatever the guard had done made it so that Blaine couldn’t put weight on his foot. He was still gasping and shaking in the guard’s hold but he managed to look up, trying to smile reassuringly at Kurt. Kurt couldn’t remember ever been so scared in his life. He clutched at his arms as they half dragged Blaine, stumbling, out the door. Karofsky was watching him though, and Kurt looked up, meeting his eyes again and wishing that if he hated Karofsky enough that would solve everything. 

 

“What are you going to do to him?” Kurt asked, his voice harsher than he thought it would be but it was probably unsurprising considering how hard he found it to breath. “He’s not- he didn’t do anything! It was all me.”

 

“I bet,” Karofsky sneered a little. “If I’m not good enough why don’t we put you back in a tower. Maybe you’ll get better luck on your second try.”

 

And now he was in that room, ten steps across and high up in a part of the tower so dusty the landing had almost been soft when his guards had roughly tossed him in. He coughed so violently he almost threw up after that and was grudgingly thankful for the warm, flat tasting water-filled flash they had thrown in after him. 

 

He settled on the floor because the bed was no more clean and he really didn’t want to think about beds right now. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he rested his forehead and wish, because maybe it would work, maybe he had a secret fairy godmother or something that could swoop in and save him. He had forgotten about magic. 

 

He had obviously spoken something magic before and it had triggered whatever traps Karofsky had laid around him without him knowing. He felt like banging his head against something, it was stupid to forget about magic. It was a rule that had been drilled into his head from childhood. Magic was unpredictable and dangerous, especially to people like Kurt who didn’t know how to wield it. The tower was so effective because it was made from magic so old no one knew quite how it worked. There was no way to take it out, no way to change the rules to it, at least not in any way the court magicians had known about. It was why Kurt disliked it and usually he was mistrustful of anything that glittered with any sort of explanation. That was why he found himself angry, not with Karofsky completely, but with himself.  He had no idea where his head at been. Ever since he had come here he had felt like he was floating in a cloud, drifting from place to person so unlike his usual self. The only times he felt clear headed was with  _Blaine_ and fat luck that was going to do now. 

 

Now that Blaine was probably scheduled for execution. Kurt felt dizzy, sicker than before, and his stomach lurched. He raised a hand shakily to his face, trying to keep his stomach still because all that was in it was the flat tasting water. It churned uncomfortably before settling heavy and Kurt groaned. 

 

Blaine was probably in the tiny cell Kurt had seen on his self-guided tours of the castle. The tower cells kept the worst kinds of prisoners. They housed rapists, murders, people that society didn’t know how to deal with so they kept locked away like animals. Blaine didn’t belong there at all and now he was in pain and it was all Kurt’s fault. Kurt and his stupid mouth, and his stupid wishes. 

 

The room felt like it was shrinking, smaller and darker than before and Kurt had to force himself to breathe because now his heart was beating faster and what the hell was happening, this wasn’t right, he didn’t feel right. His thoughts whirled around in his head and he felt so wrong right now. 

 

But, suddenly, there were gruff voices outside the door and it snapped something in Kurt. He still felt sick and dizzy but he climbed shakily to his feet. 

 

Kurt jumped, his body running on a high of exhaustion now, at a loud thump, like a body hitting the door. There was a second thump, more muffled and a metallic scrapping at the handle. Someone had a key, it dawned on Kurt, and he grabbed the closest, heaviest weapon. His limbs felt weak but fear was a powerful weapon, he was quickly discovering. The door opened and Kurt lunged, not willing to lose the element of surprise. 

 

“What the-“

 

Kurt had been aiming for someone Karofsky’s height, fortunately, which meant Wes had plenty of time to duck as the momentum carried Kurt forward until he crashed into the boy and they almost fell into door frame. David and another boy, Thad, Kurt remembered, grabbed him before they could fall but then tripped over the legs of one of the unconscious guards and they ended up in a heap on the floor anyway. The chamber pot crashed onto the stairwell before breaking in half and echoed loudly as it tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. 

 

“Is everyone okay?” Wes managed to say as they boys shifted and Kurt wiggled all his fingers and toes before answering affirmatively. David and Thad also groaned in positive responses and they slowly climbed to their feet. “Kurt, while I applaud your, was that a bed pan?” Wes squinted down the steps and Kurt wished it had been something a little more heroic. Wes just shrugged though before continuing. “Anyway, as much as I admire your quick actions I think we need to fall to our second escape route now. The guards on the lower levels are probably on their way up.”

 

“What?” Kurt’s knees were scraped from the floor and he was pretty sure his hand was bleeding. But that didn’t distract him from the fact that Blaine’s friends were here, somehow, and he couldn’t stop blinking, as if that would make things clearer. “Wait, what are you guys doing here?”

 

“We’re here to rescue you,” David pulled him back into the room gently and closed the door. Kurt watched wide eyed as he pulled a device from his pocketed navy vest. It was looked like a metal spider and Kurt recoiled when the spindly legs began to move. David didn’t seem surprised though and he pressed it to the door. Kurt thought he must be hallucinating because the legs dug deep into the wood and stone, holding them together for what purpose Kurt couldn’t fathom. David had been watching Kurt from the corner of his eye and smiled amused. “To keep the guards out.”

 

“But, how will we get out?” Kurt felt like he should sit down. His brain was still swimming and he thought maybe he should tell David that but the words were stuck in his throat. He suddenly wished he had more water, disgusting as it may have been.

 

“Don’t worry,” David glanced to the other side of the room. Thad was tugging a thick black rope from his sleeve. It was growing longer and longer even though there was no extra bulk under his shirt. Wes had used the bed to grab the wooden rafters and, with a feat of flexibility that left Kurt speakless, he flipped and hung upside down by his knees.  Thad paused to pass him the end of the rope and he started to tie it onto one of the wooden beams. 

 

“But-”  and now Kurt didn’t have a choice in the matter, his knees were buckling and David caught him, steering him towards to the bed to sit down like it was normal. “You’re singers.”

 

“Not quite,” David said and Kurt was getting irritated by the light tone. But right now all he could do was sit and wrap his arms around his stomach. “We’re more like-”

 

“Knights in white armour,” Thad said grinning wickedly. “Here to rescue you. Uh, again.”

 

“Well, not knights,” David admitted. “Technically most people classify our skills as ninja-like. And the navy tends to blend better into the night than white does. The armour is figurative as well. Well, mostly magical in any case.”

 

“What?” Kurt was still gaping. “Magic?”

 

“I think you should explain a little more clearly,” Wes said, still dangling like a bat and clipping metallic hooks onto the rope as Thad kept pulling on his sleeve. “Without the clever quips.”

 

“I’m not sure we have that much time,” Thad pointed out. There were voices echoing outside the door. Kurt jumped again as and the other boys tensed.  David placed a hand comfortingly on Kurt’s elbow but Kurt’s skin was starting to itch so it felt too heavy. “Maybe an abbreviated version would be best.”

 

“We were hired by your father,” David explained, his voice less amused. “He hired us to watch the tower and make sure you were only rescued by someone you wanted to rescue you.”

 

“You were there the whole time?” 

 

“In rotations. You were there for quite some time you know. We had to take a few other jobs,” David said. Kurt had his eyes on Wes as Wes started to pull several bright red jewels from his pockets. Kurt was amazing his hair wasn‘t moving even though he was still clinging to the beam with his knees. “There was this one, with a pirate-“

 

“Which is perhaps best left for another time,” Thad pointed out. The rope was nearly up to his knees now but he kept dragging out more and Kurt was certain there was no way it had all been under his clothes.  

 

“Right. Well, yes, we were there watching you for the most part. When Karofsky came by and we learned he was going to take on the dragons we came back to settle camp with him and pretended to be a singing group. He’s not exactly the cleverest foe we’ve had to lie to.”

 

“Almost done?” Wes asked Thad and flipped back onto the floor. 

 

“Nearly,” Thad said and the bed shuddered as more guards arrived to help push at the door. 

 

“Your father didn’t want us to interfere if you didn’t ask for us, so we were bound by the contract to lie to you. It’s a good thing too; Blaine couldn’t lie if it was his own mother on the line.”

 

“Is Blaine okay?” Kurt asked quickly because the banging on the door was getting louder and if he ended up dying in the next ten minutes at least he would know if Blaine had an escape plan.

 

“Jeff and Nick are getting him,” Wes replied. “Don’t worry, Blaine can take care of himself.” 

 

Kurt wouldn’t have believed it before but he had seen the unconscious bodies and the casual way the three boys didn’t have a scratch. 

 

“So you were all just waiting for me to admit I wanted to leave?” Kurt asked disbelievingly because what kind of contract did his father have to pay for anyway? His stomach flopped again, and he nearly vomited over the floor before it stilled. He wondered again if he should tell the boys about the sudden calm that was over him. It felt wrong still, weird like a huge weight was pressing him down. But the wrong words were tumbling out of his mouth. “What if I never said it? I could have been happy and you would have been stuck here forever.”

 

The three boys shared a look before Wes said, “We were free to leave after the wedding. But then Artie started to talk and Blaine put forth a motion. And then there was Brittany-“

 

“Who we still can’t just leave behind,” David shot back. “I told you we should have planned better.”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Wes insisted but Thad had reached the end of his rope and so had the guards. There was a blast outside the door and the bed blew across the room. David pulled Kurt out of the way quickly and Thad tossed the length through the narrow opening. Wes climbed up first, squeezing through the gap and dropping from sight. 

 

“What are we-“

 

“Hold on to the hook,” David ordered smoke started to curl under the door. He boosted Kurt forcefully up to the gap and Kurt grabbed onto the metal grip. He gasped as it sprang to life and encased his hand snugly in an ugly glove that ran down to his elbow. “Wes is in front of you, Thad and I will be right behind. Go!”

 

“But-“

 

“Go!” the boys shouted as the door finally started to buckle and Kurt scrambled through the gap, thankful he hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, and dropped down the side of the palace. 

 

Wes was right in front of him, several meters down the rope, but paused and braced upright on the palace wall with his boots. Kurt slid down ungracefully, not prepared for the way the glove kept him on the rope but didn’t offer any stability in the free air. Thankfully, Wes seemed to expect his disorientation and caught him with his spare hand before he could hit the side of the castle. 

 

“Hold on to the glove!” Wes shouted over the wind and Kurt did, terrified and dizzy at the height. Wes hooked a strong arm over his stomach, squeezing him tight to Wes’s chest, and suddenly they were falling backwards, only the harsh angle from the glove wrenching his elbow and shoulder giving him any kind of hope he might not be falling to his death. He wanted to scream but he was too terrified to do anything else but cling to the metal and pray Wes didn’t loosen his grip. 

 

His eyes were tearing from the speed but he could make out a dark blob in front of him along the rope and he hoped that both the boys had managed to get out in time. He couldn’t imagine anyone doing this for a job, let alone Blaine who looked like he would be more at home in countryside manor. But Blaine apparently did this all the time. As he felt the wind tear at his skin, he wished Blaine had actually been a singer. 

 

Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Wes stopped them sharply, digging fingers into his side as they jerked on the rope, flying away from the wall for a heart stopping second before the sunlight disappeared and Wes landed in a dark room in a cat-like crouch, somehow keeping himself and Kurt from falling. 

 

“Let go of the glove,” he said, amusement and laughter in his voice as Kurt tried to unclench his fingers, surprised at the small cuts he had picked up from holding so tight. “Here,” Wes touched jewel on the metal and it retracted back into a simple hook. Kurt let go quickly, moving away from the open window they had gone through and tried to wipe his eyes clear as his knees bent and threatened to drop him to the ground in an undignified heap. 

 

He jumped as first David then Thad shot through the open stone window, their metal gloves disappearing as soon as they made it through the frame, and they tucked and rolled easily along the ordinate carpet to their feet. By the time Kurt had his breath back and was able to take stock the other boys had already settled into the room. Thad was pushing the rope back up his sleeve. It had detached from the rafter and Kurt felt a little sick as an image of the rope giving way and plummeting to the ground ran through his mind. Wes had picked up their metal hooks and had safely stowed them back in his seemingly empty pockets. David had walked around the room once, making sure it was empty, before pressing his ear against the door. 

 

Kurt felt about three steps behind everything they were doing. The room was empty of people but was still plenty crowded with dusty objects. Kurt assumed it was one of those empty rooms that tended to accumulate when castle grew too big. Certainly it had been made with a purpose but that had been forgotten along the years. Now it looked like a dumping grounds for anyone who had something they didn’t want to carry further up or down the long staircase. They must be close to the ground floor, Kurt was certain they had fallen quite far, but he wasn’t sure of anything beyond that. All he could do was stumble a little to a ripped arm chair and sit heavily still trying to make sure none of his vital organs had shifted too much. 

 

“You should bandage those cuts,” Wes said and pointed to where his left hand was still bleeding. 

 

“I’m fine,” Kurt said distracted. His hands were still shaking but even that couldn’t distract him from the hum of something that seemed to be in the air. Now out of the tower and on the lower floors, the itch that had been on his skin seemed deeper and more tangible. But he felt so heavy and it was an effort to move his arms. He went to tell them, because he should tell them, but when he opened his mouth his jaw froze. 

 

“It’s going to leave a trail,” Wes explained and reached into another pocket to pull out a roll of gauze. “It’s already all over your face.”

 

Kurt’s hands flew to his face and he turned until he could see his reflection in a dirty mirror propped along the wall. One of his cheeks was streaked with blood from his hand when he had tried to clear his eyes and he took the gauze from Wes, scrubbing at his face. Afterwards, he let Wes expertly wrap his hand but not before hesitantly pulling the gold wedding band off and pocketing in the front of his shirt.

 

“Be careful with it now,” Wes said, taping the end securely before standing and moving towards David across the room. The boys looked tense but not as tense as Kurt did. Kurt squeezed his eyes closed, wishing the pressure building in the air would release. At least then he wouldn’t have to suffer through this anticipation. But closing his eyes was only giving him more of a headache so he opened them again and looked over to Thad, desperate for a better distraction.

 

The rope went in slower than it had come out and Thad was still cramming it into this sleeve. He gave Kurt a lopsided smile and said, “It’s probably going to be in a million knots when I go to get it again.”

 

“Ha,” Kurt tried to laugh but it was as weak as he felt. “Do you all have something like that?”

 

“No,” Thad said, glancing at Wes and David who were locked in a heated whisper. “We all have different talents. Blaine can climb, as you know. I’m good with ropes. Wes is our leader. David is our eyes and ears. And Theo can make a roasted chicken with nothing more than a piece of flint, a spit and some wild mushrooms. We all have our hidden talents we bring to the group.”

 

“But you all rescue people. Like Robin Hood.”

 

“We aren’t affiliated with that arrow-happy bastard!” Thad said sharply and Kurt jumped.  “All he cares about is the money and the bottom line. Our way has long term positive effects on the communities we work for. He just swoops in and swoops out with no regard for the consequences of random acts of vigilantism.”

 

“Sorry,” Kurt said quickly. 

 

Thad didn’t seem to care about an apology though. Instead he was looking at Kurt more closely now that the rope was nearing its end. “No, I’m sorry. We thought we would have more time to ease you into this. I have a pamphlet,” and he did, somehow, pausing from the rope to reach into a pocket. Kurt could only read the title “ _Helping You Out: A Warbler’s Guide to the Ins and Outs of Being A Damsel or Duke in Distress_ ” numbly. 

 

Actually, now that he could process what David had told him, a lot of things over the last while started to make more sense. Like those times in the tower he had thought he could feel eyes on him when he sewed in the window. Or the times Blaine had to catching himself or change his story. He realized, suddenly, that there had probably never been a late night produce stand. “But, Artie spoke to you? You know he’s human?”

 

“You’ve met the guy,” Thad laughed. “Do you really think he could keep quiet for a while month? Plus, it was pretty easy for us to tell he wasn’t a rabbit. We’ve all seen that spell before. There’s a whole clan of witches that make a profit selling so called cures like that. ”

 

“So you can fix him?” 

 

“Of course,” Thad said. He tucked up the last bit of rope. “But the guy didn’t want to be fixed. He keeps on babbling about a rabbit’s libido and honestly I didn’t ask any more questions.”

 

Kurt blanched at that because he had been subjected to answers like that when he had unwittingly still been asking Artie questions about his ex-girlfriend. The images were still horrifying in his mind. Fortunately, David and Wes turned from their conference but they had grim faces. 

 

“Plan B isn’t going to work either,” Wes said simply. “There’s too much activity and we can’t pin point a route out as easily as we hoped.”

 

“I thought we had the castle plans.”

 

“According to the noise in the walls that part of the castle is-“ David paused, glancing at Kurt which didn’t help his anxiety at all, “not passable right now. We can get to the library but beyond that there is a lot more activity than we anticipated.”

 

Kurt froze because it felt too easy. Surely more than just the servants and he knew about the tunnel. It must be a big trap, nothing felt right. Things just didn’t fall into place like this. But still- “The big library?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“We can use the passage that’s near there,” Kurt felt almost amused by the look of surprise from them mostly he still felt like throwing up. “I used it to visit you before. It leads through the mountain to the lower city.”

 

Kurt was thankful they had an almost wordless communication system in place because it only took a few raised eyebrows, a half smile and one shoulder shrug for a plan to form. 

 

“Tell Nick,” Wes told Thad who nodded quickly and reached into his sweater to pull out a small pink stone on a chain around his neck and pressed it to his lips. Wes turned back to Kurt who swallowed hard because it was one thing to be repelling down the side of a castle thankful the man holding you had the balls to try to defy gravity and another to be on the receiving end of that same determination. “Okay, Kurt. We’ll follow your lead.”

 

Yes, that was what he had been afraid of. 

 

David slid the door open slowly so they could get a better idea of where the movement on the stairs was. It seemed that the guards realized what had happened quickly and they had thundered down the stairs a few moments ago. There were still voices echoing around the staircase but they were chaotic and they couldn’t make out words. David paused and frowned but then he eased the door open wider.

 

Kurt wanted nothing more than to close the door and throw all the forgotten furniture in front of it until they could guarantee things were safe. But that wasn’t going to happen, obviously, so he tried to stop the shivers. “We have to go. Kurt, we’ll be right behind you in case something happens.”

 

“Right,” Kurt took a steadying breath and slipped out the door David held open for him. Each step felt weighted as he started down the stairs. The adrenaline (because it was the adrenaline right? It did crazy things to people, made them feel like he did now, like he was swimming upstream with every movement, like every step was on a floating floor, like every word was touchable in the air.) He was like a cat, he thought giddily, hoping it was terror making him so light headed but grateful for the detached feeling from his body. A dangerous cat, with vicious claws named Wes, David and Thad who would lash out at any stupid guard who-

 

Kurt glanced behind him and only saw a hallway empty except for rows of empty tapestries. 

 

“Guys?” his voice was quiet but panicked. “Guys?”

 

“Shhh,” Kurt could hear them but he couldn’t see them and fuck being a cat, he was a goddamn kitten and not cut out for this. “We’re right behind you, keep moving.”

 

“Ninjas,” Kurt swore under his breath and he still felt alone even though if he listened hard he could pretend to hear soft ruffling of clothing behind him. “Fucking ninjas. Blaine had better never be like this. I’ll put a fucking bell around his neck.”

 

It wasn’t as much of a comfort as he thought it would be to have his task force rescue team somewhere invisible around him. It should be cool but instead it was terrifying because he knew if something happened they would jump out of the shadows. It made the shadows that much more terrifying. 

 

Kurt had walked this staircase several times in the past and though there was nothing out of the normal, no strange voices or physical changes, it felt different. It felt like his mind was rapidly losing grip on reality. He had to hold on to the wall because if not he was going to float away.  He wished Blaine was here. He wished Blaine was holding him, talking to him, grounding him. 

 

They reached the library without an incident. Kurt peaked around the corner and pulled back slowly when he saw it was empty.

 

“Anyone?” Wes asked, appearing so close to his face Kurt could feel his breath and he would have let out an embarrassingly girlish shriek if Wes hadn’t anticipated it and covered his mouth. Kurt shook his head. Wes‘s hand was too hot. “Good. Where is the passage?”

 

“Behind that tapestry,” Kurt whispered against Wes’s palm as the other boy loosened his hold. Kurt leaned against the wall, still trying to get his heart to beat in a rhythm more like a human being’s. “The ugly one with the fish heads.”

 

“Good,” Wes repeated. Kurt didn’t see where David and Thad emerged from but he was more than grateful to have them back and tangible again. He felt no shame holding David’s sleeve as they started around the corner. 

 

“Don’t worry,” David tried to reassure him. “We do this all the time.”

 

Kurt wished he could find some kind of hidden strength in that but he knew he wasn’t going to feel better, not until the body he was holding onto was Blaine, not David. 

 

Kurt was almost surprised when they made it to the tapestry without incident and David patted him on the shoulder as they crept in the darkness. Kurt didn’t let go of him. Instead, he reached forward so he had both hands wound into the back of his shirt tightly and David didn’t protest. Maybe this happened all the time, Kurt thought. Maybe every person they rescue was like this. Maybe everyone turned into a shaking, petrified mess of a human being when they were forced to go through this much fear in such a short time. Not maybe, he thought venomously. Definitely. It was a chemical thing, right? Adrenaline shouldn’t be turned on and off like so rapidly. It was bound to cause some strange behaviours. David wasn’t commenting so Kurt was going to pretend it was a normal occurrence. He was sure the pamphlet would have been helpful to read.

 

“We can wait here for Nick and Jeff,” Thad said as they moved far enough into the tunnel their voices wouldn’t carry as long as they whispered. It was so dark Kurt couldn’t even see David’s sweater though he could practically feel it on his nose. The only bit of light was the pink stone glowing softly in Thad’s face but Kurt could only see a hint of the outline of his hand and face. “They said they were almost here.”

 

“With Blaine?” Kurt couldn’t help but say it with a hopeful tone. 

 

“Yes,” Thad answered and Kurt could hear a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, they’ve got him.”

 

Once Blaine was here it would be better, Kurt was certain of it. His hands were already trembling less on David’s shirt. Things were going to be fine. He was just going crazy from the stress. He just had to take deep breaths. 

 

“Shit,” Thad broke the silence. Kurt could see the pink jewel glowing again. “They ran into some trouble. Wes-“

 

“Go,” and almost before Wes was finished speaking Thad’s soft footsteps were running back up the tunnel. Kurt’s grip tightened and Wes and David pulled out their own stones. Kurt was grateful for the light and moved even closer. 

 

“What is that?”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad,” David said tersely. Of course, what he said did nothing but make Kurt worry more. “They’re close. Thad should be there soon enough-“

 

Both Wes and David stiffened and, without speaking, Wes turned and ran as well. Kurt was practically wrapped around David like he was a tree and David patted him on the head. It wasn’t as calming as he probably thought it was. 

 

“It can’t just be Karofsky,” Kurt said, turning his head so he wasn’t speaking into the wool. “There must be something else. Just tell me-“

 

But now David was prying his fingers off and moving towards the entrance. “I’m sorry Kurt, I don’t have any time to explain but trust me, things are going fine. Just a snag. Wait here, okay?”

 

“Wait, please don’t leave me.” Kurt suddenly felt like a child, whining and clinging and he felt vaguely disgusted with himself. However, he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Instead he shuffled closer, his skin tingling for human contact. He wondered, clinically, why his skin felt so empty but forgot about it the very next second.

 

“Here,” there was a shuffle of movement and David raised his arms. He put something over Kurt’s head and then closed Kurt’s fingers around a dark, warm stone that suddenly shone pink. “Take this. Don’t use it unless you need it.” He tucked it under Kurt’s shirt and it went dark as soon as it was out of his hands. 

 

And despite trying his best to hold onto him, David slipped free and Kurt was left in the darkness alone. He shivered more, the cold settling in almost instantly and he felt lost, worryingly so. Distantly he wondered again if this was normal, if this was all in the pamphlet because surely the dread that felt like it was creeping over his skin, threatening to cover his mouth, crawl down his nostrils wasn’t a normal reaction. The Warbler shouldn’t have left him like this because-

 

But then there was a sudden cramp in his stomach, anxiety, he told himself. It had to be anxiety because he was entitled to some, surely. His brain felt jumbled, the giddy terror melding with the increasing pains in his stomach and he felt like he shouldn’t be standing because the ground was rumbling and swirling under his feet. He sat down quickly, the world instantly stabilizing as he hugged his knees to his chest because now he realised it was his body threatening to blow apart. 

 

He reached for the stone, surely this was an emergency, but when he tried to hold it again it didn’t glow. Kurt closed his eyes, huddled in the dark, and felt it climb into his skin, seeping under his clothes, tracing over Blaine’s hands, digging deeper and deeper until they were touching his stomach and heart and-

 

This time he couldn’t stop it and he managed to tilt to the side, gagging and choking as he vomited. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 6**

 

It wasn’t the most glamorous moment of Kurt’s life but, as he sat there shivering, tremors all over his joints and spitting out the last of the bile in his mouth, he realised felt almost immediately better.

 

He didn’t try to stand because the spinning may have stopped but he wasn’t stupid enough to trust his knees yet. Instead he leaned back against the cold stone and wished he had a blanket or something because his whole body felt too cold.

 

It wasn’t nerves, he decided finally. That hadn’t been the reason he had been so on edge. Though his body was still feeling weak and limp, as if someone had wrung the strength from his body like water from a cloth, the anxious sharp fear that had been plaguing him was gone. He felt clear-headed,  _finally_ , though he couldn’t even close his fingers properly.

 

He must have been poisoned, somehow, a flash of anger at himself for not realising sooner.

 

It wasn’t the first time in his life it had happened. Their kingdom may not be as large and prosperous as Karofsky’s but they had their fair share of enemies.

“People hate what they can’t get,” his father had stroked his hand through Kurt’s sweaty hair as he heaved, only ten years old. “We have to be stronger than them. Rise above and all that.”

 

Kurt remembered nodding weakly and the feel of his father’s strong grip never leaving him for days afterwards.

 

Though, come to think of it, Kurt didn’t remember what happened to the poisoners. Only that his father had promised they wouldn’t cause trouble again.

 

It didn’t feel exactly like before, the sick weak feeling, but it was close and after a few minutes he slowly started to get to his feet. However, before he could stand up straight, the tapestry was pushed aside, framing a dark figure with an obscured face.

 

“Kurt!” it was the last voice Kurt ever wanted to hear and he recoiled when Karofsky reached out.

 

Karofsky hesitated when he saw that then withdrew but Kurt squinted suspiciously at him. He had moved closer but the torch only lit the edge of his face and cast shadows around his eyes and mouth.

 

“Sorry,” Karofsky’s voice was rough and grudging. “I went looking for you in the tower but the guards said you went out the window. I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

 

“That was kind of the point,” Kurt said, wincing at how torn his voice sounded. “And don’t expect me to apologise for it.”

 

But Karofsky didn’t try to grab him again, or haul him back down the tunnel to stuff him back where he had started. Instead he looked almost nervous.

 

“Look,” Karofsky started again, his voice awkward. “I’m sorry about the whole tower thing. I was pretty pissed. But I went to see my father and-“

 

He stopped and Kurt could see his eyebrows furrow and Karofsky’s hands were suddenly in tight fists. Kurt was still holding the wall to keep his body steady and his free hand was itching to grab the necklace because he didn’t know what it did but it seemed like any kind of intervention would help right now. But Karofsky didn’t look angry at him, he wasn’t even looking at Kurt now, so he stayed his hand.

 

“And what?” Kurt prompted, his heart pounding too fast in his ears still.

“I told him I wanted a divorce,” Karofsky’s voice shook on the last work. “And he told me I couldn’t.”

 

“It is pretty unheard of,” Kurt replied evenly, wondering if Karofsky had even known that. “Especially for people like us.”

 

“That’s messed up,” Karofsky’s voice was gruffer than usual, like he had been yelling himself hoarse. Kurt knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He had seen how little was expected of Karofsky to understand the runnings and customs of the kingdom. Still, he was a little shocked at Karofsky’s reaction. He must have really not known or been told about anything, really, about their nuptials and the customs both of them had been bound by. It was an appalling breach of education and for a brief moment Kurt felt, alien and unwelcome, a stab of pity. “Anyway, I told my dad to stuff it. He was pretty pissed. I told the council to let you go but they were kind of being assholes so I went up myself. I figure if I am going to get out of it you should too. But you were gone and so I figured you were fine with Blaine,” he said the name bitterly.

 

“I’m not sure if you are expecting me to say thank you,” Kurt said, weary and confused. “Did you let Blaine out as well?”

 

“No,” Karofsky said. “I can’t do anything about that, either.”

 

“I see,” Kurt’s voice was tight. “Well, I’m free and you’ve gone and done your good deed. I hope to never see you again.”

 

“Wait,” this time when Karofsky reached out he took hold of Kurt’s elbow even though Kurt jumped under his hand. “It wasn’t all bad, right?”

 

Kurt wasn’t sure how to answer. It had been bad, all of it, and now that he wasn’t living it he could see how clearly he had wrapped himself in delusions and lies to make himself feel better. But he hadn’t been happy, not even a little, and he never would have. He might have gone on living as Karofsky’s husband for another few months, maybe in years, but he knew that, despite the fact he had actually made himself believe things were  _getting better_ , that he was  _getting used to it_ , he would have faded. He already felt thinner, more hallow, like parts of himself had been eroded. It would have only been a matter of time before he would have been whittled away to bones and, eventually, after that, nothing.

 

He wanted to lash out again, like he had in the room when things had been black and white, evil and good, him against a room full of bullies.

 

But instead he said, calmly and sadly because Karofsky looked so hopeful, “No, Dave. It was horrible.”

 

It didn’t feel good watching Karofsky’s face crumble, seeing the way his jaw clenched and the torch shook a little as his grasp tightened.

 

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’m going to go. Fuck being a prince. My boys are waiting for me.”

 

“Wait,” Kurt said as he turned to leave and Karofsky did, though he didn’t turn to look at him. “What is going to happen to me now? What did the council say?”

 

“You’re still my husband. They were pretty clear about that,” Karofsky snorted. “They were really fucking pushy about me rescuing you in the first place. Honestly, I thought it was going to turn out way differently, the way they were going on about you. I guess they didn’t want to let you go.”

 

Kurt blinked, surprised, because he hadn’t realised that. They had ignored him all this time. If they had wanted the marriage for something other than marrying Dave off… well, political reasons were certainly out and if they wanted his skills they would have probably approached him by now. But before he could think about it further he realised Dave was still watching him with a strange, pained expression.

 

“I think it means you’re the heir now,” Dave said finally and Kurt suddenly understood.

 

“Oh.”

 

When Kurt had been stripped of his title after his father’s wedding and he had to pass the heir crown to _Finn_ , who proceeded to put it on backwards, he had felt a stabbing rage he had to quell because it was what his people wanted. But in that moment he had wanted to snatch the metal from Finn’s head because it was  _his_ , it had been promised to  _him_. His whole life the kingdom had been it, had been the  _thing_  and Finn was going to ruin it.

 

He wondered if Dave was thinking the same thing.

 

But at least Karofsky was freely giving it up. No one was forcing him out. As it was, this was going to be treason.

 

However, despite the way Karofsky’s hands shook when he handed over the dented, too big crown, Kurt didn’t feel the same kind of elation he thought he would feel at his coronation.

 

“Good luck,” was the last thing Karofsky said, low and bitter, before stalking off into the darkness, taking the light with him until Kurt was once again alone in the dark marble tunnel.

 

The edges of the crown bit into his skin. He felt one of the jewels sharp under the pads of his fingers and it startled him out his thoughts. This wasn’t a time to dwell on what could have been. There was something terribly wrong in the castle and Blaine and the few friends he had made in this place were still there. The Warbler’s may have told him to stay here, and, sure, they were the professionals, but Kurt hadn’t been raised to wait in the shadows. Clutching the crown, he moved defiantly towards the entrance and pushed the tapestry aside.

 

It was empty and quiet. Kurt didn’t know what he had expected. The lights from the torches were still burning cheerfully as he started to make his way down the corridor not sure of his direction but certain in his purpose.

 

He caught a look of himself in the mirror across the wall and grimaced because his shirt was still dotted with blood from his hand and he hadn’t been aiming properly when he had been sick. He moved closer to the mirror because to try and at least make himself presentable.  

 

“Kurt!”

 

“Oh my- what happened?”

 

One day Kurt’s nerves wouldn’t be so on edge but for now he jumped, angry at himself for being so distracted he hadn’t noticed the two girls round the corner. They rushed forward, Mercedes looking scared and Quinn with a determined scowl on her face.

He couldn’t find his voice as Mercedes touched his chin, clucking disapprovingly before using her sleeve to dab at the blood.

 

“You have a knack for trouble,” she scolded but her hands were shaking. “I ought to ring your neck for pulling that stunt but it looks like someone beat me to it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “I’ll make sure to save you a piece of me for later.”

 

“Apologise after,” Quinn’s voice was harder than usual and she didn’t spare a look in Kurt’s direction. Instead she glanced down the hall again before rounding on the two with a glare. “Mercedes, you have to go. You need to take Kurt somewhere out of here. No more excuses.”

 

“My ‘excuse’ is standing right here looking like he’s going to fall over,” Mercedes shot back and Kurt couldn’t help but feel happy and grateful that she was alright. “Now I’ve just got you to convince.”

 

“I’m staying right here,” Quinn narrowed her eyes. It sounded like this was an ongoing fight. “Karofsky’s disappeared to God knows where,” Kurt winced but kept quiet, “and the people need someone in charge right now. Kurt’s clearly not up for it,” and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement because at the moment he just wanted to find Blaine. He was more than happy to let Quinn stomp around and yell at people, “and you need to get somewhere safe.”

 

“Wait, what’s happened? Was there a revolt?” Kurt managed to edge in.

 

Kurt’s question went unanswered, though, because that was when the chain around his neck grew hot and he had to rush to pull it over his neck before it burned him. He yelped and almost dropped it but once it was in his hand it just felt comfortably warm.

 

“What is that?” Mercedes had pulled away, shocked, but Kurt suddenly couldn’t hear her because he could hear  _voices_ in his ears.

_Jesus fuck, Wesley if you ever do that again-_

_Did it get you?_

_I’m fine, I’m fine, what about Jeff, the black one’s wing-_

_I’m good, it missed but what about-_

_Kurt._

 

Kurt dropped the stone to the ground because that was Blaine, actual Blaine, not hallucinated Blaine, and it had sounded like he had been speaking directly to him.

 

“-the hell are you listening to?” Mercedes looked angry and scared now. Kurt answered before he could think about it because that had been so startling it had scared any rational thought out of his brain.

 

“The Warblers,” his voice sounded a bit far away and he reached down to touch the stone again.

_-thought you gave him your stone!_

_I didn’t exactly have time to explain about it. Nick was screaming bloody murder!_

_Well, excuse me but it’s not every day that you get attacked by two huge fucking dragons okay? I panicked!_

 

“Dragons?”

 

“What dragons?”

 

“Kurt, what the hell are you talking about?”

_Wait, was that him?_

_Kurt can you hear me?_

 

“Blaine?” Kurt asked tentatively. Quinn and Mercedes went quiet but only barely.

_Thank God. Kurt, are you okay?_

 

“Yes, I’m okay,” Kurt felt like yelling because everyone was asking him that and, honestly, unless he was on the ground bleeding from his eyes, he was always going to answer that he was fucking  _fine_. “Are you fighting dragons?”

 

“What about dragons?” Quinn had grabbed his elbow and was squeezing.

 

“Is that Blaine?” Mercedes was on his other side. “What is he saying?”

_It’s nothing. They’re just, you know, posturing and such._

_Posturing? You call eating the_ king _a posture?_

_Shut up Thad!_

 

“They  _ate_  the king?”

 

“You mean that’s true?” Mercedes had his shirt in a tight grip now and he was slowly losing feeling in his arm from Quinn.

_Kurt you need to get out through the tunnel. Go to the port, some of the other Warblers are there, they’ll keep you safe._

 

“We can’t go through the tunnel,” Kurt said quickly because Karofsky was most likely still down there.

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“It’s-“ Kurt paused, wracking his brain for an answer and coming up short.

 

“Boy, what did you do?” Mercedes was glaring but she looked scared now.

_What?_

 

“It’s fine!” Kurt tugged but failed to get out of Mercedes’s grip. “But we have to wait until we go down, alright?”

 

“Kurt,” there was a dangerous edge to Mercedes’s voice. “What is down there?”

 

“It’s more like a who,” Kurt mumbled.

_You have to try._

 

“I’m not leaving without you,” Kurt said stubbornly because Karofsky wasn’t a good excuse for not using the tunnel, the other boy had a good head start on them anyway, but he was determined to stay no matter what.

 

“You look like you’re going to kneel over and die in the hallway,” Quinn said sharply. “You are not fit to rescue anyone.”

_That’s very noble Kurt but I promise, I’ll be-_

_Crap, here they come again._

_Thad go left, Wes cover Blaine, David use the slicer on the-_

 

“Artie?” but the stone had gone cold and quiet. Kurt felt like throwing it to the ground and stomping on it but Mercedes spoke before he could.

 

“Unless it’s another dragon down there, we should go,” she said, pulling him towards the tapestry. “Come on, those boys will be fine. Artie said they do this for a living-“

 

“I’m not leaving,” Kurt and Quinn said at the same time. Kurt looked at her puzzled but Quinn had a determined line to her usually pretty mouth.

 

“The king is dead, Karofsky is missing which means I’m in charge,” she said quickly. “I can fix this.”

 

“You can get eaten you mean,” Mercedes said and kept pulling on Kurt. “Come on, you.”

 

“I’m not dead yet!” Kurt protested, hoping that if he said it enough they would believe it. He knew he looked pretty bad. Hell, he didn’t even feel any better than he looked but that was the last thing on his mind right now. “Blaine’s in danger and I put him there. I have to save him.”

 

“You couldn’t save a kitten,” Mercedes said but suddenly she froze, her eyes wide and staring at the hand dangling by his side, not holding the stone. “Oh my God.”

 

“What?” but then Quinn saw the crown and it was too late for Kurt to hide it. “Karofsky?” for a second Quinn’s voice was almost small. “Is he-“

 

“He’s fine,” Kurt reassured her. “Alive, but a coward. He left through the tunnel but he gave me this first.”

 

“He ran away?” Mercedes voice was hard and Kurt could understand the betrayal she felt but there was no time to get angry.

 

“And he gave me the heir status which means-“ Kurt swallowed hard and looked at Quinn feeling helpless. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Come on,” she reached and grabbed his hand, her face blank but her eyes steely as she closed fingers with him and the stone solid between their palms. “You’re the king now. We have to fix this.”

 

“Together,” Kurt said stubbornly and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Mercedes, if you go now-“

 

“Like I’m leaving you two in this alone,” she rolled her eyes and Kurt suddenly felt something akin to warmth,  _finally_ , as relief flooded him. She wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, lending him badly needed strength. “You two are more likely to get yourselves killed without me look after you. Who’s the next in line then?”

 

“My second cousin, Rory,” Quinn said and the three of them shuddered. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

They weren’t sure where exactly to go but it was  _dragons_  and there were few places they could fit. Quinn started to lead them through to the outside yard. The castle was too quiet to be containing the activity it was supposed to but the strangest thing along their way was the pockets of people they met holding brooms and silverware as if still completing their daily tasks. They weren’t actually cleaning though, just clutching them like weapons as they whispered frantically, staring wide-eyed and desperate as the three passed. Finally, Kurt spotted Sam with several other personal servants pressed close together against a wall with white pinched faces.  

 

“Sam!” Kurt called out because it was one of the few names he knew in the castle and the blond servant looked around startled.

 

“Prince Kurt,” Sam didn’t look relieved to see him but he stepped closer. “You three should leave. It’s- you should go.”

 

“Is it true?” Quinn demanded suddenly. “The king, is he dead?”

 

Sam paled a little but nodded and replied, “I saw it with my own eyes. He told us to stand ground but when he-“ Sam shuddered. “They dropped him. On the mountain.  _In_  the mountain,” Sam swallowed hard as the reality of the words seemed to hit him. “Oh my God.”

 

“You need to go!” Kurt said, pushing at Sam until he looked back at him. It was crazy, Kurt was fuming, that a king would order his people to stand and fight like that, and for them to all still be here, even with the king was  _dead_ \- “Get out of here.”

 

Sam gave him a relieved look and the servants nearby fled the way Kurt and the girls had come. Sam paused though, hesitant. “Are you coming as well?”

 

“No,” Kurt said. Each time he said it he felt a little stronger. “We’re staying here. Let all the other people know they should leave. Is there somewhere people gather in case of an emergency?”

 

“The castle,” Sam said ruefully and Kurt cursed. “But wait, before I leave I should tell you something. I’m sorry, I never told you before but you have to understand, working here- I have to protect my family. I have two younger siblings and my parents-“

 

“Spit it out, Sam,” Kurt said because he could feel time ticking away and Quinn was shifting from foot to foot beside him.

 

“The council has been putting things in your food,” Sam said quickly. “Drugs, I think. And in your drinks. And I’m pretty sure they stopped your letters.”

 

Kurt froze for a moment, the itch to get to Blaine pausing. Even Quinn and Mercedes stilled. “What?”

 

“I don’t know why exactly,” the other servants had left, it was just Sam left in the hallway with them, and he looked ready to bolt. “I used to overhear them in the council meetings. It had something to do with keeping you here until they could fix something,” Sam was frowning and the words were tumbling as he spoke them. “They kept speaking about the earth being stable now that you’re here, and something about old magic-“

 

“Old magic?” Kurt repeated faintly. “Trust me, I know nothing about magic. All magic does is ruin my life.”

 

“Maybe I misheard,” Sam said, glancing down the empty corridor. “But when Karofsky came in and wanted to divorce you they were pretty angry. They said if you left the dragons’ magic wouldn’t protect us anymore. Then the dragons took the king and- I’m, pretty sure the dragons aren’t protecting us at all.”

 

Kurt wanted to question him but suddenly the eerie quiet of the castle was broken with a shake and a roar and there was no question that the dragons (and the Warblers, Kurt thought hopefully) were close by in the outside yard.

 

“It’s fine, go Sam,” Kurt said and the servant was already moving. Mercedes was clutching Kurt’s elbow and Quinn wouldn’t meet his eyes but they still had to go forward.  

 

“I didn’t know, Kurt,” Quinn said quickly as they moved. “I swear, they don’t tell me anything.”

 

“Trust me, I know,” Kurt said dryly because he had been an honorary court lady long enough to understand that. He knew his friendship with Quinn was tentative at best and she was infamous in her schemes but she wasn’t so cruel as to drug him, especially when it served no purpose to her. If Quinn was going to drug someone it would probably have been Karofsky and most likely it would be to save them from another rendition of  _He’s All Fury_ , a ballad his personal bard came up with. “Let’s just deal with the dragons for now.”

  
  
It made a lot of sense now that Kurt thought about it. He had been drifting and complacent, losing time in patches. The vague nauseous feeling that kept on fading in and out and it had only been when he had lost his appetite and couldn’t eat much that he had felt like himself. He suddenly felt furious with himself for not realising sooner though he knew there was no why he could have known. He wondered if Karofsky had known but dismissed that thought because there was no way the council would have trusted him that that secret.

  
  
But why did they think he had anything to do with dragons?

  
  
They could hear the fight well before they saw it but it was still shocking when they reached an outer doors and caught flashes of fire through the windows. Quinn leapt back as stray flames licked around the scorched stone, shoving Mercedes and Kurt against the wall out of harm’s way.

  
  
Mercedes was holding Kurt’s elbow so tightly his hand was tingling but it didn’t matter because he could hear shouting between the roars and a very familiar voice raging through it all.

  
  
“Is that all you got?” that was  _Puck._ There was no way Kurt could mistake that voice for anyone else because only Puck could combine that casual craziness to his threats. He pulled out of Mercedes’s grip and shot out the door, ignoring the girls’ shouts because he had to see for himself.

  
  
Santana was there as well.  And they were  _flying_.

  
  
Kurt couldn’t believe it because he had never seen them so big before. Puck was harder to see; he was a dark shape against the blue but Santana was hovering just above the courtyard walls, flapping powerfully and sending strong gushes that almost knocked Kurt off his feet. She was concentrating on something, flinging nasty curses and blowing fire angrily into the air as she struggled to stay in place. There were several navy clad figures in a tree and Kurt gaped because it was the Warblers, too tiny for him to make out individually but definitely them. Someone was swinging a rope, a heavy metal glint on the end, the others perched anxiously in the branches. Santana was growling, bits of flames escaping from her nose.

  
  
“Kurt, get  _back here_!” Mercedes’s strong hands yanked him almost off his feet and he realised the grass he had so casually run onto was burning embers around him. This was the courtyard he had married Karofsky in and normally it was a picturesque. Now, it looked more like a battlefield. The grass was too short to burn very long but the beds of flowers were on fire in patches and there were long stretches of torn ground that looked the same size as Santana’s claws. Mercedes pulled him back to the stone walkway, out of the crackling grass, and he saw Brittany clutching a white ball of fur for the first time.

  
  
“Are you crazy?” Quinn looked like she wanted to hit him, then she did, hard, on his shoulder but he was too confused to respond. “You are not fit to run this stupid kingdom if you’re so willing to throw your life away like that!”

  
  
“But that’s-“  


“- Puck and Santana,” Artie said and none of the three girls seemed surprised. “I know, man. Crazy.”  


Kurt wanted to sit down, just for a moment, to let everything sink in and he must have swayed on his feet because Quinn had to reach out to steady him. Then, there was a roar and all four of them ducked instinctively as Santana took to the sky again and Puck dropped into a dive.  


“Len, hold position on northeast, Kent where are you?” Artie barked orders but Kurt couldn’t see who he was talking to until the stone he had forgotten was still in his hand grew hot again and he heard the voices like they were whispering in his ear.  


_Yeah, hurry the fuck up Kent._   


_I’m almost there! One more staircase. I swear to God, if I never have to climb another step again-_   


_I’m hanging from my fingertips here, no complaining._   


Then, in a strangled, tense voice,  _No one gets to complain until they have dangle off a suicidal dragon, okay?_  


“Hold on, Blaine,” Artie said and Kurt didn’t know how he missed the matching pink stone around Brittany’s neck, nearly level with Artie’s twitching nose. “Once Kent’s in position we can throw up the net.”  


Puck flared his wings, less than fifty feet from the ground but before Kurt was knocked from his feet from the powerful gust of air he saw one, single, absolutely insane Warbler clinging to Puck’s neck.  


“Get the fuck off me, bro!” Puck dropped clumsily to the ground, twisting and trying to throw Blaine from his back but only succeeding in making his curly head jerk painfully. “This isn’t funny anymore!”  


“Blaine!”  


Quinn was still holding Kurt’s arm and it was the only thing preventing him from jumping to his feet and dashing over to where Puck was thrashing on the ground.    


 _I’m here, I’m here!_  Kent was almost breathless.  


“Now!” Artie screamed, his voice loud now that Kurt realised he could hear it through the stone and through the air, and the Warbler on the tree let go of whatever he had been swinging. It flew in a high arch, glinting in the sun before falling, aimed at their side of the courtyard.  


Santana dove and Puck tried to lunge after it but Blaine had wrapped a leg around where his wing connected to his body and Kurt could almost hear the bones creak as Blaine jerked Puck off balance. Puck tilted, crashing back into the ground when he tried to take off.  


“Fuck!” Puck cursed and Kurt did leap to his feet when Puck tried to turn his long neck around to bite at Blaine’s head.  


But before he could go more than a few paces the sky burst in a bright red light and Santana let out a furious shriek. Kurt had to throw up his hands to cover his face and he heard a metallic  _screech_  as whatever the Warblers had flung ( _bait_ , he realised wildly, but Santana wasn’t obsessed with shiny bangles _that much_  or she would have been more impressed with his retro golden headdress-) hit the stone wall behind them.  


“You stupid filthy ground sucking, warm blooded  _bastards_ ,” Santana punctured her words with a sharp blast of fire at the tree filled with Warblers but a green glow arched around the branches, keeping them safe. “Magic stealing, knuckle-dragging  _vegans_!”  


Kurt stumbled a few more steps, glancing up at the red web now spun between the castle walls, before regaining his balance and running as best he could to where Puck had finally stopped struggling. He looked worn out and was resting his head on the blackened grass and as Kurt hurried up Blaine slid, though it looked more like he was falling, from Puck’s back and lay spread eagle next to Puck’s panting teeth.  


“Blaine, get away from there!” Kurt grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away from Puck but his feet slipped on the earth and he fell on his backside, still holding onto Blaine’s hand. “You’re insane, you know that?”  


“Yeah, bro,” Puck panted out. “Little fucking monkey-boy.”  


“Kurt?” seemed to be Blaine’s only reply and he heaved himself to his side, gripping Kurt’s hand hard. “I thought you were escaping!”  


“I told you I wasn’t,” Kurt snapped back. “I can’t believe you! You could have died! You could have fallen, or Puck could have eaten you-”  


“True, dude,” Puck said, still lying limp not three feet away. “Totally would eat you.”  


“See?” Kurt said but Blaine just laughed until he started to cough and Kurt finally managed to climb to his feet, dragging Blaine up after him. Blaine stumbled when he took a step and Kurt cursed loudly at every single one of his ancestors as he forcibly tucked himself under Blaine’s shoulder and helped him limp back to where Artie and the others were still crouched along the stone wall.  


“You came back to save me,” Blaine sounded dazed and Kurt wondered feverishly if he had hit his head but then remembered, oh yeah, the guy was  _crazy_. A concussion wouldn’t change that goddamn fact.  


“Because you’re an  _idiot_ ,” Kurt grunted. Blaine was solid muscle and heavier than he seemed. “An  _idiot_ with no sense of self-preservation to save his life-”  


“You two match then,” Quinn said dryly though her voice was shaky as they reach the group. Kurt let Blaine drop harder than he should have but his heart was still racing and picturing the boy plummeting to his head so he felt Blaine deserved to feel a little of his own pain. But when Blaine bit his lip to cover up a groan Kurt felt instantly guilty.  


The group had scattered in the explosion of magic over their heads. Brittany had been knocked to the side and was looking dazed at her scraped hands. Quinn was kneeling beside her, her dress ripped at the knee and a bleeding, shallow cut on her cheek. Mercedes had pressed back against the stone wall and looked unharmed but her hands were shaking as she reached for Blaine, checking to make sure he was okay.  


“What the hell is going on?” Kurt snapped at Artie because now that Blaine wasn’t lying next to teeth as wide as his wrist he wanted some answers. Brittany must have just dropped him before she had been thrown aside because he seemed fine if a bit singed around his ears and was crouching on the grass. “Why the hell does everyone know you can talk? What the hell is that thing in the sky?  _Why the hell are Santana and Puck here?”_  


Santana’s curses had fallen to incomprehensible screams of rage and when Kurt glanced over to punctuate his point, he could see that Santana had decided to take her anger out of Puck. He winced because he had seen them in some fairly violent squabbles and Santana was holding back nothing as she clawed at Puck’s back.  


“Do you really think Artie can keep the talking thing under wraps?” Mercedes said but her eyes were wide and training on where Santana was now punching Puck in the head and cursing at him. “Everyone knows.”  


Kurt wanted to take out some of his own Santana-like anger Artie’s furry little neck because he had been painfully keeping that secret for  _months_  but Blaine grabbed his hand and hauled him to the ground between him and Mercedes.  


“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Blaine said breathy and kissed him, sweaty, hot and disgusting but Kurt couldn’t bring himself to care. Kurt jumped but his heart was still pounding from the adrenaline and he supposed Blaine’s must be as well because suddenly he couldn’t think about anything but making sure Blaine was  _alive._  However, in the next second, Blaine pulled back but couldn’t seem to let go of Kurt’s hand as he started to explain quickly. “The Warblers were on their way the second you broke the spell. They got me out before the guards could even bring me to the dungeons but then  _they_ just appeared!” Blaine pointed to where Santana had bested Puck, though he looked too exhausted to be a true challenge for her, and was grinding his face into the dirt while he snorted dust-filled smoke from his nostrils.  


“You think you’re the only one who cares about that spell?” Santana yelled, her voice laced with contempt and Kurt was suddenly very aware that he wasn’t under any kind of protection spells. “The only reason we were stuck there was because of you and your inbred, stubby fingered, Pinocchio-nosed, short-sighted _prick_  ancestors!”  


“My nose is not like Pinocchio’s,” Kurt said faintly, even though that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t the point  _at all_ , and fingered the bridge of his nose. Santana didn’t seem to have heard him.  


Puck failed a claw weakly, possibly in agreement with her but Kurt was never sure with those two. Santana shifted off of his neck and he gulped at the air frantically but stayed down while Santana started to pace.  


“We didn’t realise,” Blaine said, but he was looking at Kurt not the dragons, and he looked apologetic. “Breaking the spell, wanting to get out of the marriage- it must have broken the spell on the tower and set them free.”  


Blaine’s hand was warm in his and Mercedes had pressed close on his other side but he still felt shaky and cold. Magic. Stupid magic. He glanced up to where the red net was still glowing across the sky. It was a cage, he realised, and it was keeping Santana and Puck from flying up. Kurt wondered briefly what else Thad and the others kept up their sleeves.  


Santana gave another angry howl and stomped on Puck’s tail.  


“Dammit, Santana!” Puck tried to scramble away. “It wasn’t my idea to follow them here in the first place!”  


“If they hadn’t stolen it in the first place,’ Santana growled, “we wouldn’t  _need_  to follow them and I wouldn’t have to pound your sorry face into the mud for letting a Prince Charming reject use you for rodeo practice!”  


“So go get your rocks off on  _him!_ ” Puck pointed wildly and Santana’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I don’t have anything of yours!” Kurt protested when she looked a little too carefully at him.  


“I never said  _you_  had it, doll-face,” her voice had a nasty edge and Kurt flushed because she had totally remembered the Pinocchio thing. “It’s your small-dicked boyfriend and his gaggle of lady-men that I’m going to rip apart until I find it. You, I have other plans. Plans that involve more heat.”

 

“I would have thought the king was filling enough!” Blaine shouted and tried to push Kurt behind him but Kurt just shoved him away impatiently.   


“We didn’t  _eat_  him,” Santana spat little bit of flame. “I like my meat less disgusting than what you  _humans_ are,” she then leered at Kurt and Blaine glowered. “And it’s not like your little troop of winged monkeys are going to be around to stop me if your little nighttime snuggly tips into the volcano like his dear papa-in-law. I’m just going to consider it retribution for years of trauma being locked up with Horny-McScaly Balls over there.”  


“Look, it wasn’t me that locked you guys away!” Kurt yelled out. “I was just as much a victim as you were!”  


“Trust me Twiddle  _Dumb_ , I’ve meet more of your little family members than your history books can remember,” she grinned. “You took something of mine-“  


“Ours,” Puck growled, looking much too recovered for Kurt’s comfort.  


“And I’m not leaving until I get it back.”  


“You’ll never get the chance to do anything to us, or to Kurt!” Blaine yelled. “Once we put the stupid thing on you won’t be able to do anything to anyone! Ha! What do you have to say to that you- you- over-sized chameleon!” Aside, he glanced at Artie and said quietly, “We still have the bracelet, right?”  


“Please don’t taunt the dragons, Blaine,” Artie said testily and Blaine clenched his jaw as Santana started to scan the ground.  


But it was Quinn who saw it first, a gasp alerting the rest of them. It was close to her and Brittany, a flat oval silver something bright on the grass. There was a moment of silence then both Quinn and Brittany scrambled for it.   


“Don’t-“ Blaine yelled but it was too late. Brittany had moved faster it seemed and she touched metal object with one bare hand.  


She shrieked as the metal enveloped her fingertips. It looked like it was melting onto her; molten steel sheering her fingers as she tried to yank it off.  


Kurt recoiled, bile rising in his throat but Quinn grabbed Brittany as she stumbled to the side, pinning her to the ground to keep her still as Quinn wrapped Brittany’s hand with the tattered edges of her gown. Blaine struggled to use Kurt’s shoulder to stand but Kurt was too shocked to help him.  


But Santana was too fast and before Blaine could fully get to his feet, she was on them, dwarfing the two blonde girls in the shadow of her wingspan. 

  
Quinn gave a shout of pain as Santana latched her claws over Quinn’s hand, yanking them off with a sickening red flash of blood, and started to scrabble at the metal.  


“Quinn!” Mercedes screamed and Blaine fell with a sick yelp, his ankle twisting when he tried to put weight on it.  


“Keep him down,” Kurt ordered, his voice feeling too steady as he shoved Blaine to Mercedes and finally found his own feet. “Stop!” he yelled but Santana was beyond paying attention to him.  


Brittany had stopped screaming but she did let out a surprised yelp as Santana dragged her forward like she was a ragdoll, knocking her feet from under her so she had to hold onto Santana’s wrist to stay up.  


“Stupid girl!” Kurt could see she had her claws hooked into the metal, still tugging with enough force that Quinn had to hold Brittany hard to keep her from being dragged closer to Santana’s wicked teeth. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Santana hissed, smoke still curling from her nostrils.   


“Hey!” the Warblers who had been in the tree had finally made their way across the yard and Kurt had to give credit to Wes for having the courage to grab a literally fuming dragon by the claws and tried to pry Brittany free. “Let go of her!”  


“Quinn,” Kurt had moved, somehow because he didn’t remember taking the step, to Quinn’s side and this time it was he who held searching into to elbow. “Are you okay?”  


“I’m fine, just blood,” she said and she moved so he could see the injury but she didn’t release her grip on Brittany.  There were deep scores across the back of her hand but she hadn’t lost any fingers.  


He leaned in to get a better look at Brittany’s arm, wondering wildly if this was anything like the living metal claw that he has used to help rappel from the tower and hoping it was as easy as pressing a jewel.  


It looked like it, certainly, but it left Brittany’s fingers free and it looked like it had sunk into her skin rather than enveloped it. It was gorgeous, twisted steel lacing with twin shining dragons wrapped from her elbow to the back of her hand and a familiar crest stamped directly on her wrist.  


“That’s the Hummel crest,” Kurt pointed to where the tip of one of Santana’s razor sharp claw was resting on it. It felt like he should be more shocked but seemed like this day was going to be full of surprises. Artie could probably start tap dancing and Blaine could confess to being a parakeet, Kurt wasn’t certain he would protest against it. “Why is that the Hummel crest?”  


“Your father gave it to us,” Wes said. As he spoke, the fight seemed to drain from Santana because her grip turned lax and Brittany’s and slowly slid free. “He wanted to make sure we could get past the dragons in case we had to rescue you in a more  _direct_  manner,” Wes said dryly.  


“It controls dragons,” Blaine explained, still on the ground with Mercedes firmly holding him there. He looked like he wanted to stand again but Mercedes’s grip was tight and all he could do was politely try to squirm. “Just in case- you know.”  


“What?” Santana spat. “In case we took a bite out of him or something? You know as well as I that I can’t eat a Hummel, even if I did want to.”  


“Speak for yourself,” Puck scowled. “I’m looking forward to a little deep fried human.”  


“Why did my father have something that could control dragons?” Kurt pulled Brittany’s hand closer so he could see it. She was loose and relaxed in Quinn’s arms still and willingly turned so he could hold it in the sunlight.  


“Because your  _family_  controls dragons,” Quinn’s voice was tight with pain still but she shot him an incredulous look. “Why else do you think the only remaining dragons on the continent were conveniently locked in your chastity tower?”  


“There are other dragons,” Kurt said but he suddenly felt unsure. He had known the dragons where there his whole life, he had never wondered why. He had never seen dragons besides Santana and Puck but surely what Quinn was saying wasn’t true. They must just be very rare or-  


 “You have no idea, do you?” Quinn said irritated. “That’s why no one messes with the Hummels.”  


“Oh,” Kurt said. Santana snorted and shot him a look of disgust.  


“It’s not common knowledge I suppose but it’s in all the ancient books,” Quinn said. “I thought you of all people would know.”  


“My father never said anything about it,” Kurt wished he was the one sitting now.  


“I thought- I thought you  _knew_  and that’s why you agreed to stay with Dave,” Quinn kept speaking, her words coming faster in disbelief. “I had no idea they were  _drugging_  you to keep you here but they definitely wanted you here, forever. I thought you  _knew_.”  


“What?” Kurt had thought he had been numb but it was like numb had fallen away. “Knew- what? Why would I stay here?”  


“Of course he doesn’t know,” Santana said snidely. “And don’t pretend you’re all so much better for knowing the ins and outs of my people,” she snapped before Quinn could say anything. “You only know because you want us to sit around in your goddamn volcanoes and make sure you don’t all die because you’re stupid enough to want to build here. Let me guess,” her voice turned sarcastic and Kurt could see Quinn’s face losing the fear and going tight with anger instead. “Earthquakes. Some sulfur marinating the air. And now you want to go crying to us to save your sorry asses.”  


“You’ve been saving these people, Kurt,” Wes broke in, a steadying voice, and Kurt met his eyes. “From what we can tell from speaking with people from the docks at least, your being here has already stopped the earthquakes. Before you came here the place was starting to shake apart and the king was refusing to move. He was  _killing_  people if they tried to move-” Wes glanced away, schooling his face back from rage.  


“They tried kidnapping once,” Quinn said. “It made your father try and cut ties with us but from what I’ve overheard of the council, they’ve been bribing your council.”.”  


“I kind of remember the kidnapping,” Kurt said, the strange pieces clicking into place: the rushed exit from the kingdom when he was a child; the way his father decided to cut most of their travels after that; the pressure the council put on his father to marry Carole after only a brief period of consideration even though his father had been widowed for years; their refusal to let Kurt at least become a co-ruler with Finn despite precedent; hell, even the surprisingly easy agreement to let Kurt leave the tower with he was eighteen if he hadn’t been rescued. Of course they wouldn’t have cared, not if they knew Dave was going to be coming well before that time. “But-“  


Kurt didn’t even know what he wanted to ask anymore, his mind had gone blank. But there must be something to say- he felt like he was drowning in information and answered questions but there must be something else because he felt more lost than before.  


“You’re bleeding,” Brittany said, breaking through Kurt’s thoughts. He glanced down but she was talking about Quinn. He grimaced, feeling stupid for brushing an injury like that aside because Quinn was still bleeding, and pulled at her hands until she finally let go of Brittany.  


“It’s not that bad,” Quinn insisted but she was rather pale and Kurt hurriedly pulled the wrappings from his own hands to covered Quinn’s. It wasn't perfect but the small cuts on his hand from the metal hook he has used to rappel down the tower (okay, cling to Wes like a baby, but, really, it wasn't like he had ever been that good with heights) were nothing compared to Quinn’s and it would be cleaner than using any of their clothes at this point. She winced as he tied it tightly.  


Santana let go of Brittany too, sinking down to her haunches and tucking her wings along her back. She looked defeated- if Kurt thought anything with teeth the width of a sapling could look defeated.  


“I’m not sure this can bleed,” Brittany poked at the metal encasing but it looked like it had settled. She flexed her wrist and to Kurt’s surprise it moved easily. “It’s pretty though. But,” she glanced at Wes worriedly. “I think it’s going to interfere with work."  


“Oh, trust me, Brittany,” Wes let out a long breath. “You’re in for a bit of a career change.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 7**

 

 

 _The Hummel Family Dragon Bracelet (also referred to as ‘that fucking thing!’ in Draco: Our History Throughout the Ages) was commissioned in Year 45 of the Germanic Flower by Fredrick Hummel after a distressing incident involving his mistress and a disgruntled dragon messenger. Not possessing the bloodline agreement provided by a marriage ceremony to spouses of people of Hummel descent (ref. The Hummel And The Dragon: How The Humans Saved The Day For Once), Simone Montague attempted to send a love letter to the king by means of the Royal Dragon Service which at the time kept quarters in the South Towers. The unfortunate was badly burned after a heated argument with the young dragon. Witnesses claim to have heard the following dialogue between the Simone and the dragon:  
  
Simone: “Come on, it would take, like, five minutes.”  
  
Dragon: “Look, lady, I may be in servitude to the kingdom but I’m not at just anyone’s beck and call. Maybe you should find yourself a man who wants a commitment. Maybe someone a little more in your… social class.”  
  
Simone: “Do you have any idea how often men bathe in the lower city?”  
  
Dragon: “Actually, you’re quite right. I have a brother who heats the baths in the lower south quarter.”  
  
Simone: “Exactly. All I ask is for as little dirt in my neither regions as possible, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Dragon: “Oh, well, that’s an image I’ll never get out of my brain.”  
  
Simone: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so crass, I’ve just been having a tough week and my mother’s been on my case again about marriage-“  
  
Dragon: “Say no more, I’ve spent the last three hundred years trying to convince my mom that I’m just not ready to settle down yet. I’m only one thousand and twenty-three years old, after all.”  
  
Simone: “You’d think it would be a decision we could make our own, right? We’re the ones who have to be in the marriage, am I right? I mean, Fredrick is nice and all but he’s not exactly marriage material.”  
  
Dragon: “Plus, he’s married already, which I imagine makes things difficult.”  
  
Simone: “Well, even besides that, I’m just not sure he’s dedicated enough to this relationship, you know? Oh, sure, the sex is great but he hasn’t asked about my day in, gods, I can’t even remember and we never go out like we used to when he was courting me behind his wife’s back-  
  
Dragon: “Achoo!”  
  
Simone: “Oh, bless you.”  
  
Dragon: “Thank you, I’ve been having trouble shaking this cold and- achoo!“  
  
The offending dragon was banished and the relationship between the Royal family and the dragons turned sour. In a pre-emptive strike, King Fredrick commissioned the Royal Mages to make three bracelets which granted the wearer to not only the Royal protection but also complete mastery over any dragon.  
  
Until this point, the dragons had co-dependently shared their ancient territory in the northern volcanic mountain range with the Hummel family as per the friendly agreement made in earlier times (ref. The Hummel and the Dragon“Chapter Six: How Prince Alfred’s weird hobby of extracting gall stones came in handy when facing Theoracious the Mighty King Dragon”). As thoroughly explained in Chapter 1, dragons, while having control over the seismic activity over their territorial grounds, lack the necessary digits to deal with more subtle daily activities, such as grooming scales, fixing physical ailments and baking fine pastries loved by all. By allowing humans access to the fertile lands around the mountains, they were able to secure the humans’ nimble fingers for tasks otherwise out of their reach. However, King Fredrick claimed that, “Well, I don’t know how to take out a bloody gall stone, especially not through that orifice, thank you, so what’s to stop them from just up and leaving now?” He felt that on top of the need to protect any interaction between visitors and non-Hummel residents, the Royal family had to protect the lands which they lived on should the dragons decide to use their magick to attack the humans with the very earth they lived on.  
  
This mistrust angered the dragons enough to almost cause an inter-species war but once the spell had over taken them the Hummel kingdom was able to grow and expand beyond their quiet volcanic borders. Soon, King Fredrick the Third (occasionally known as “the bastard who magicked all me crew three legged just a’cause he felt unnatural-like!” by the pirate community) had engaged most of the human world in a bloody battle field, killing many sorcerers who guarded the old magicks (Mavrick The Great, Kingsley the Known, Steve, etc). The world retaliated and soon the dragon population dwindled and the Hummel kingdom was forced to the edges of the continent in a small seaside village. Two of the bracelets were destroyed by Steve in his final stand and the last has remained hidden by the Hummel family until they could rise again (“You can’t stop the great Fredrick the Three Legged Fornicator!” as quoted by Fredrick the Third upon the council’s decision to surrender and before his untimely downfall into infirmary).  
  
\--excerpt from World’s a-Shaking! : A debunking of seismic magic, currently banned by the Common Good_  
  
“So, when exactly where you planning on letting me know about the whole dragon-Hummel blood magic thing?”  
  
Burt Hummel had the good grace to look embarrassed and he stabbed a piece of mutton with his fork. Kurt glared at him from across the table because he was refusing to give into the small distraction (he had requested the cooks make chicken but Mama Jones wasn’t a woman to be trifled with and if the visiting guest wanted mutton then mutton it shall be).  
  
“Well, I figured it would come up eventually,” Burt said finally. “I mean, when you grew a tail and all.”  
  
“What?” Kurt yelped and slapped a hand to his backside as if the appendage might just sprout spontaneously. Burt just chuckled from across the table and chewed his meat as Kurt glowered. “That’s not funny. I only just got my wardrobe back. Do you have any idea how long it would take to make tail holes?”  
  
“Long enough, I imagine,” Burt drawled. “It wasn’t like it was important or nothing. I didn’t tell you your mother had a bit of ogre in her and nothing has come from that.”  
  
“What?” Kurt yelped again, because his father didn’t seem to be joking this time.  
  
“You weren’t born with green skin so what’s the big deal?” Burt said. Carole nodded next to him before passing a silver dish of peas to Quinn who accepted it gracefully. “There’s only two dragons left and they’re tucked out of the way so what’s the point of knowing something that’s ancient history and most people have forgotten anyway? I’d rather you focused on the here and now. That’s the important bit.”  
  
“They’re not so tucked away anymore,” Kurt muttered.  
  
“Yeah, well, I didn’t see that one coming.”  
  
With the king out of the way and Kurt unexpectedly on the throne, it had been surprisingly easy to get a hold of his father. When the messenger reported back, his father had written that he had been sending letters to the palace since the Warblers had alerted him on the marriage but had grown worried when he hadn’t gotten a reply. Kurt felt a stab of longing for home when he had read the letter because he had missed his father but he hadn’t realized how much he still needed the man’s advice and strength.  
  
Burt had insisted on coming to see him as soon as he could and it wasn’t like Kurt was going to sway him. It took Burt and his new wife (though Kurt realized they had been married for quite a while by now) several days to reach the castle, even by ship. In that time, the kingdom struggled to return to a sense of normalcy. Some of the servants returned to the castle, shaken but eager to reclaim their jobs. By the time Burt and Carole had shown up on the shores, the damage in the courtyard was well on its way to being groomed and they had enough people return to give a modest reception for the royal visitors.  
  
Well, they had enough servants to ready the rooms, cook meals, and take charge of the daily tasks Burt and Carole would need. The reception was attended by Kurt and Quinn and some of the Warblers. Gone were the lavish dinners and in house entertainment. The ladies of the court and their chaperones had been discreetly moved by their families as soon as they were able. Karofsky’s men had, for the most part, accounted for the Royal Guard and without them Kurt soon found himself shadowed by at least one Warbler. He thought it was unnecessary, the only person he had feared in the castle had been Karofsky and he was long gone. Quinn, however, was quick to point out that even though the king was dead and his son vanished, the common people still outside the castle walls had residual feelings towards the station Kurt now occupied.  
  
“Executions,” Quinn had explained grimly over one candlelit dinner. “He hung commoners who tried to escape down by the ports but the royals were pushed into the volcanos.”  
  
“How did he know they were escaping the tremors?” Kurt narrowed his eyes because no king could be that insane. “Maybe they were just stretching their sea-legs or something.”  
  
“He didn’t,” Quinn shot back. “The council had control of most things but the king still thought he could just deal out life and death sentences whenever he felt like. He’d keep sailors’ families under an even tighter watch and if someone was lost at sea-“ she stopped and pushed her still-full plate away. “People stopped trying when the shaking stopped.”  
  
Kurt swallowed hard and glanced to where the crown, discovered by a servant not long after he had been officially declared the acting king until coronation, sat on the table.  
  
Overall, it seemed, the confusion over dragon’s magic, over whether the land was actually safe or not, coupled with fear of the two angry dragons that had taken residence in the towers had made the upper class flee. It was understandable, Kurt had told them repeatedly, even though he secretly thought they were being obtuse for not listening to even their own scholars. “Maybe next year we can wrangle you a good husband,” he tried for a light-hearted tone as one family collected their three daughters at court but it was through gritted teeth. The eldest girl had been particularly scornful of his silver-studded waist coat and he wouldn’t miss her anyway, he tried to tell himself as they and their tax dollars left the courtyard with a purposeful gallop.  
  
Surprisingly, Kurt found, the middle and lower class were, for the most part, staying though many were taking extended vacations abroad or with family in the countryside. He knew it was because there was no kingdom well-equipped to take on so many refugees and many couldn’t afford to move otherwise. However, he was touched when Sam had told him many were comforted that Kurt was put in charge because, as Wes had told him, after the wedding the shaking of the earth had all but stopped.  
  
By the time Burt and Carole had arrived on the shores, the castle’s population had dwindled to only Kurt, Quinn, the castle staff including Mercedes and Sam, the Warblers, and a few hopeful candidates for council positions. It looked bleak and empty without the people and Kurt had almost felt embarrassed by it.  
  
Kurt had spent the time they had been waiting in his rooms pouring over the books Quinn had been hoarding away from her family and the library reading about his family and the dragons. He wondered how his own history books had been able to cut out entire chunks without anyone really noticing (he had never heard of Simone, for example, but suddenly remembered that one of the sections of the state hospital back home had been called the Montague Wing and usually dealt with victims who had been burned). But the more he read the more he realized that people probably knew. His father must have, certainly. It had just been him who had been unaware. He was almost angry at his father for keeping this kind of information from him so he found he had a lot of restless energy while waiting for real answers.  
  
He tried to speak to Santana and Puck about it but conversations with them were usually derailed despite his best efforts. They were no longer a real danger as long as Brittany cooed over Santana’s scales and they had taken to rousting in the top towers. Their tempers had not improved over time and Santana threatened to roast Kurt at any given opportunity but it seemed Brittany had been a surprisingly good choice for Keeper of the Dragons.  
  
“She really likes it when you scratch here,” Brittany had showed absolutely no fear around either of the dragons as she had reached her non-magicked hand to one of Santana’s horns.  
  
“I do not-“ Santana’s eyes had rolled back in bliss as she had shuddered and leaned into Brittany’s hand.  
  
“That’s nice,’ Kurt had edged closer to the door. They had decided to settle in the room Karofsky had locked Kurt in. Puck had knocked down several walls to make the room accessible for them from the air and Kurt had been trying his best to keep away from the edge, stepping carefully between the stray scales scattered around the floor. Santana and Puck might be under tentative orders from Brittany to cause no harm to humans but he wouldn’t trust Santana to not ‘accidently’ knocked him down and out with a sly twist of her tail.  
  
“You should try on Puck!”  
  
“No!” Kurt and Puck had said loudly.  
  
“I’m still going to kill you, one. Day,” Santana had grunted a little before pulling away from where Brittany had really been throwing her weight behind the scratch.  
  
“As long as Brittany has that bracelet on you can’t kill anything,” Kurt couldn’t help but feel a bit snug as Santana’s growl faded into a whimper as Brittany found a new angle.  
  
“I’ll teach her what Wes taught me,” Brittany had said excitedly. “I mean, I’m not the best at remembering but he taught me a lot of tricks so I wouldn’t forget.”  
  
“I’ll bet he did,” Puck had muttered.  
  
“Brittany, I don’t think Santana is going to need to know about things like, uh, that,” Kurt had tried to say gently but Brittany had brushed him off.  
  
“Well, I know that, her lady parts aren’t exactly the same,” Kurt had shot Santana a wide-eyed look and Santana had glanced at the ceiling to avoid his eyes, “but Wes said the rules aren’t about skill, they’re about safety. And you said you want Santana to be safe, right?”  
  
“I suppose, in a way, that’s what I said,” Kurt had nodded slowly though he knew his words back in the courtyard, after things had settled, were more along the line of ‘So help me gods, if you become a danger to anyone I will cut you!’ Then Santana had snapped her teeth mere millimeters from his face and he had flinched which had ruining the threatening air he had been trying for.  
  
“The first thing we need to do is come up with a safe word,” Brittany had said and Kurt had raised an eyebrow because she had looked like she was being serious. “Wait, no we need to get tested. Oh, and we need a safe haven. And a safe person. Wes is mine.” She had glanced at Kurt and raised an eyebrow of her own. “See? It’s all about safety, not sex stuff.”  
  
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Kurt had slowly backed out of the room but not before he had to hear Santana say, “What’s your safe word?”  
  
“Well, Wes said to make it something that has nothing to do with sex so I wanted to use his name but then he looked so sad I changed it to ‘watermelon’ even though there was this one time when a guy asked me to-”  
  
Quinn and Kurt had been tiptoeing around what exactly their respective responsibilities were. Even though Kurt had found out that this kingdom was in fact the Hummel ancestral home (and he had been ruled Acting King until the yet-to-be-appointed-new-council could announce a proper coronation), he still felt uncomfortable in the castle walls. Quinn had informally taken over the day to day dealings, working closely with the staff for the hiring and training of any desperate people in need of work, finding new members of the council since they had all abandoned their post at the first time of trouble, and assuring their trading partners that their lands and thus their economy were as stable as ever. Kurt was hard pressed to stop her because he was finding it hard to care, especially when she was so good at it.  
  
Karofsky was nowhere to be seen though the Warblers had told Kurt there had been rumours of an unruly sea crew battling kraken off the eastern coast and there had been faint strains of “And he kick ‘em ‘side the head with his balls o’Fury!” Kurt had moved out of the old rooms into tower on the opposite side of the castle that had been previously empty. It was smaller but airier with large windows and, though he no longer had a private one, he found he didn’t mind sharing the communal hot spring with the Warblers who had moved into the tower along with him.  
  
And that brought his mind around to the main reason he had been reluctant to take over completely from Quinn.  
  
Blaine, along with the Warblers, had moved into the castle when it became clear that Brittany’s house was no longer an option for them. The influx of people who were too poor to leave but who wanted to be closer to the port in case they needed to make a hasty retreat from the unpredictable dragons meant the Warblers had become squatters in a house that was now in high demand. Rather than force them to set up camp on the edges of town, Kurt had quickly offered them rooms in the old chambers of the court officials that had fled.  
  
It was temporary, Wes had assured Kurt though Theo was discussing a long term flower-pressing exhibition in the culture hall with Devon nearby, because they were nomadic at heart. “Nomadic,” Kurt repeated as he watched one of the Warblers walk by, gushing about the access to proper baths, kitchens and soft beds. Within a few days it had been difficult to pry them from the luxuries now so readily available to them and Wes looked exhausted whenever he tried to convince them they didn’t need a hand-woven organic silk cotton towel to be added to their already bulging inventory. Their ponies were growing fat in the royal pastures and Kurt found the idea of having them stay long term was appealing. After all, with Karofsky’s goons no longer in the palace, and with them being his unofficial shadows “just in case,” Quinn had reiterated, he needed a stable security force. He knew that after a few more weeks it wouldn’t be difficult to convince them to stay. If the treasury could afford it, that is.  
  
The other reason Kurt had asked them to keep close had messy dark curls, playful eyes and Kurt had been skating around him since the fight with the dragons.  
  
“So,” his father said and Kurt snapped back to attention. Kurt could almost smell the not-so-innocent tone in his father’s voice as he not-casually speared a piece of broccoli. “You and this Karofsky guy, it’s over then?”  
  
“It seems so,” Kurt replied and pushed his own food around the plate, refusing to answer further.  
  
“But you’re still married.”  
  
“Until we find new council members who will legalize our divorce.”  
  
“And you’re just going to make them do it, huh?”  
  
“It’s one of our conditions for their appointment,” Quinn supplied helpfully.  
  
“And the coronation,’ Burt pressed, all pretext of innocent questions given up. “Is that another condition?”  
  
Quinn and Kurt glanced at each other before hesitantly nodding.  
  
“Well,” Burt said slowly, “should things go the other way, you can always come home. Your room is just the way you left it.”  
  
“As second prince?” Kurt wrinkled his nose. “I think not. I’d rather not sit around hoping for Finn to die early. Sorry Carole.”  
  
“I’m happy you won’t be sitting around waiting for that too,” she replied.  
  
“So you’ll say here then?” Burt was staring hard at Kurt, like if he concentrated enough he could read Kurt’s mind. “Run this kingdom.”  
  
Kurt looked guiltily at Quinn who stiffly dabbed at her mouth with a lace cloth. Her hand was still bandaged but somehow it seemed to suit her. “I- look, I haven’t really decided anything yet.”  
  
Burt stared at him for another uncomfortable moment. “Well, decide fast kid. This place looks like it’s going downhill.”  
  
“It’s not anymore,” Quinn protested quickly. “With the dragons here, and Kurt, the buildings had completely stopped sinking.”  
  
“That’s not what he meant, Quinn,” Kurt said darkly. “He means that there is no court guests tonight, and there weren’t any yesterday and there certainly one be any tomorrow. And it’s not like the rest of our citizens are pledging undying loyalty to us. Our treasury is going to be drained in, oh-“  
  
“Six months,” Quinn winced. “Yes, there’s that.”  
  
“They might come back,” Kurt said but he knew his father could see right through him. He squirmed a little in his seat feeling like he was ten years old again and was trying to convince his father that of course it was reasonable to pay half their monthly income on the entire shipment of pearl-threaded jackets. “I mean, once they see the dragons aren’t a problem, they’ll come back, right?’  
  
“Dragons,” Burt’s face had more lines than Kurt remembered and Kurt swallowed hard as his father stabbed his next piece of meat too vigorously. “They’re nothing but trouble, I tell you.”  
  
Later, Kurt settled his father and his wife in the late king’s chambers, and set off for Mercedes’s workshop. It had become a ritual even before the dragons had shown up and complicated things and tonight, like most nights, Quinn joined them.  
  
And, like most nights lately, they carefully avoided any talk of the kingdom. And that left the only other topic of conversation that Kurt didn’t want to talk about but somehow just couldn’t seem to stop from spilling out.  
  
“It’s all his fault I’m such a mess,” Kurt complained as he smoothed out his stitch to check for sturdiness. “All his, ‘oh, good mornings’ and manly, brotherly hugs and, and, he has stupid hair,” Kurt glared at the cotton.  
  
“Oh, how dare he,” Mercedes replied smoothly. Quinn hid a grin.  
  
“Well, he was the one who swooped in all dapper-like with his ‘oh, you can sleep in my tent’ and ‘sure, ride my cute pony while I put my hand on your knee’,” Kurt attacked the next few stitches with a dangerous intensity.  
  
“The nerve,” Quinn said.  
  
“Then, it was all, scruffy, ‘I was so distraught I forgot to shave for a million years’, Mr. Prince Charming,” Kurt huffed then cursed as he stabbed himself in the thumb.  
  
“Bastard.”  
  
“But it all leads to the same place, doesn’t it?” Kurt shook the pain out of his finger, grateful he wasn’t bleeding this time.  
  
“What place is that?”  
  
“The old climbing in through the window all sexy hero-like and begging you to de-virginize them routine” Kurt said angrily. “And then, poof, acting like nothing happened!”  
  
“Wait, Blaine was a virgin?” Mercedes asked. “Really?”  
  
“Well, you are the one who’s been giving him the cold shoulder,” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like he hasn’t made some moves on you. Like, moving into the room next to yours even though he’s still on crutches and you’re on the top floor. Or the time he got the Warblers to serenade you from the window,” Kurt winced because they really should have never used singing as their cover story. Some ballads were never meant to be put to that kind of western drum beat.  
  
“I have not,” Kurt protested weakly. “I just have other things to do. Important things. Kingly things.”  
  
“Hm,” Quinn hummed. “Kingly things?”  
  
“I do them, sometimes,” Kurt flushed because of course Quinn knew exactly how much time he spend avoiding ‘kingly things’. “Yesterday, I-“ but Kurt was suddenly hard pressed to think of anything official he had done yesterday. “I, uh, inspected the west tower.”  
  
“You were running away from Blaine, who is finally off his crutches now,” Quinn said. “You knew he couldn’t climb the stairs as fast as you. And anyway, the king doesn’t inspect things. We hire people for that.”  
  
“Do you see anyone with inspector qualifications sticking around?” Kurt asked sourly.  
  
“And you think you have those qualifications, hm?”  
  
“Now, now,” Mercedes interjected. “You two are going to have to settle down and get along if you’re going to run the kingdom together.”  
  
“We’re not,” Kurt and Quinn said together.  
  
“You mean you don’t want to do it?” Kurt asked at the same moment that Quinn said, “Well, fine then, I’ll just pack up and go home!”  
  
Quinn stole the next breath quickly; “Wait, what did you say? You’re going to give me the throne?”  
  
“Well, yes,” Kurt said, twisting the fabric in his hands. “I mean, I wasn’t really sure until I saw my father but- this really isn’t the place for me. I was thinking about going to the coast, where you can marry anyone you want,” Kurt couldn’t meet their eyes. “Maybe, I mean, Blaine-“ his voice trailed. “And with Santana and Puck here you don’t need me to keep the place safe.”  
  
“Kurt,” Quinn sighed, not as ecstatically happy as Kurt had pictured in his head. “Santana and Puck- you know they can’t stay, right?”  
  
“Why not?” Kurt frowned, though he already knew the reason. “They can’t hurt anyone as long as Brittany is here. The world doesn’t fall into the ocean, people don’t take a lava bath, the world doesn’t end, et cetera. I think we all end up happy.”  
  
“There’s no way we can keep going the way we’re going,” Quinn said. “The treasuries are full right now because the king was a stingy, extorting horrible person but that’s not going to last us. And no one is going to come back with the dragons living here all the time. They’re going to get bored and Brittany is going to slip up and then we’ll have terrorized citizens and a worse reputation than we already have.”  
  
Kurt sighed and released the now wrinkled periwinkle cotton then tried in vain to smooth it across his knee. “So I’m still a prisoner here.”  
  
“You can marry Blaine here, too,” Quinn said. “Once we get the council members in place we can change the laws.”  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes because they both knew that once they had a council in place there would be very few things they could do freely. “Sure, maybe. But what if he doesn’t want to—I mean, it’s not like we’ve spent a lot of time together.”  
  
Mercedes glanced up from her work with a hard look in her eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re the one ignoring him.”  
  
Kurt was silent for a few minutes before he sighed and said, “This was so much easier when the boys were supposed to come to me.”  
  
“And that’s the kind of logic that landed you in the tower in the first place,” Mercedes set the petticoat on the dummy. The coat was striking, Kurt had to admit. Mercedes had done something with textiles that made the usually lacy undercoat shimmer boldly.  
  
“What are we making anyway?”  
  
“Well, I’m making a dress,” Mercedes said. “You’re attacking something I gave up on a while ago.”  
  
“You’ve done something different though,” Kurt abandoned the periwinkle cloth because it had just been a prop to keep his hand busy anyway. “What’s making it shine like that?”  
  
Mercedes pulled back the fabric so Kurt could get a closer look. “It sounds strange but the other day Brittany was fiddling with some of Santana’s scales at lunch. I got this idea for it. It’s like when people were using feathers but with scales. I thought it would make the dress to heavy but look,” she lifted the skirt of the dress and it twinkled at the movement but it seemed light in her hands. “It’s lighter than cotton even. And nothing penetrates it. I had to weave it in but with the way the world is going I think people are going to want something to protect their daughters like this. Plus, those two dragons shed like a long haired angry cat. No one is really sure what to do about the scales. Dumping them in the ocean is only going to work for so long.”  
  
“Who is it for?” he asked curiously and touched the scale. It felt pleasantly cool and smooth on his fingers.  
  
“Whoever is going to pay for it,” Mercedes replied. “My brothers took the first pieces to Carmel a few days ago. Without the Royal-wannabes underfoot it’s going to get harder to make an income. I’ve got to do something to stand out.” Mercedes sighed and Kurt winced.  
  
“They’ll be back,” Quinn said though her face had a troubled frown. “We’ll think of something.”  
  
“I made this for you, by the way,” Mercedes had to stand to rifle through her closet but came out with a pale blue tunic. Kurt could see the scales stitched artfully around the collar. He reached for it greedily and she chuckled as she handed it over. “I figure if a king wears it, it might drive up the demand.”  
  
Kurt headed back to his rooms soon after that. It was still fairly early but he felt exhausted from seeing his father again. However he had hardly even closed his door when he heard a voice through the wood.  
  
“Knock, knock, neighbour!” Blaine had claimed rooms close to Kurt’s on the ground floor. He had initially told Wes it was because his foot was still injured, though Kent had mended the worse of the bones with magic. But actually, Kurt suspected he did it for the excuse to constantly keep an eye on Kurt, like he was doing now. Kurt opened the door again quickly to reveal Blaine’s brightly smiling face. “I was going to go for a walk. Care to join me?”  
  
Kurt’s heart fluttered but he glanced down to where Blaine’s foot was still wrapped toe to knee in white bandages. He had a stick to help him keep his weight off the foot but already the bottom of the foot was covered in dirt. It was an improvement over the full crutches he had been on before but not by much.  
  
“I’m pretty sure Kent didn’t mean for you to be taking walks yet,” Kurt had rolled his eyes but gestured for Blaine to come in. Blaine did, gingerly and settled on Kurt’s bed, light and airy with grey and red accents, a far cry from the animal skins still in his old rooms.  
  
“I’m supposed to be exercising,” Blaine protested lightly. “It’s good for my health.”  
  
“It’s also pretty late for a walk,” Kurt added and sat at the stool by the mirrored desk along the wall. “I thought Wes told everyone they had to stay inside the castle walls after dark.”  
  
“ _You_  have to stay inside the castle walls,” Blaine corrected. “We’re quite capable of taking care of ourselves. You’re too important though.”  
  
“You think you can handle disgruntled villagers like that?” Kurt gestured to Blaine’s foot and Blaine had the decency to smile ruefully.  
  
“It’s highly unlikely anyone is going to be out there.”  
  
“But it could still happen.”  
  
“Come on,” Blaine stood again, holding out a hand for Kurt. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”  
  
“My hero,” Kurt said but though his voice was mocking he couldn’t help but feel a warm tug in his stomach as he accepted Blaine’s grip and let the other boy pull him to his feet.  
  
Kurt knew there were Warblers posted around the points in the castle at all times but it was a large building and they were spread fairly thin. They only ran into one on their way to the courtyard but Blaine whispered something to him that made the Warbler roll his eyes but let them through.  
  
Kurt had been given high treatment his whole life but this was a new kind of special feeling as Blaine led him past the guard outside onto the nearly repaired grass. It was hard to remember that this garden had been the place of bad memories. It was a clear night with the stars twinkling and the moon light well enough for them to walk to a covered bench in a flower garden.  
  
It felt almost unreal as he sat next to Blaine, both of them quiet in the dark. Blaine reached for his hand again, clasping it gently and Kurt could feel a tightness in chest. With a jolt he had a sudden memory of before, back when he and Blaine were just two boys standing next to a tent, their hands clammy and sweaty, just a shade too close to be innocent.  
  
“Kurt, I know things haven’t been wonderful lately. I know you’re stressed with the castle and the court and the dragons,” Blaine said and glanced up to the tower where they could just barely see Santana and Puck idly shooting small bursts of fire at stray bats in the sky. “But, I just wanted to let you know that, I’m here for you, however you want me to be.”  
  
There was a pounding in what felt like every limb in his body and he was certain Blaine could feel it where their palms were pressed flat together. “However I want?”  
  
It was too dark to be sure, but Kurt could see the way Blaine ducked his head a little and he was sure the other boy was blushing. “Yes, however. As a friend, as a mentor, whatever you want I just want to be sure that you know that.”  
  
Back then, back before they had arrived at the castle, back before Karofsky, before the king, when Santana and Puck were just things he was leaving behind, Kurt had felt the same tingling in his toes, the innocent lightness in his head. Back then, he had been shy, confused and unsure of what he wanted and how to get it. Now though—  
  
He reached forward with his free hand to touch Blaine’s chin gently. The other boy blinked as Kurt tilted his head with just the tip of his fingers and when Kurt finally kissed him, soft and still, he could feel the flutter of eyelashes on his cheek.  
  
It was chaste, compared to their other kisses, but Kurt felt the need for a little chastity as they drew apart slowly.  
  
“Is that what you want?” Blaine’s voice was quiet. Kurt smirked a little.  
  
“Maybe I should be asking what you want too.”  
  
Blaine smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Kurt had a sudden moment where he imagined what Blaine would smile like years later, the lines etched into his face all because of Kurt. Blaine leaned forward, his head angled better, when a scuffle on the other side of the flower bushes made them leapt to their feet.  
  
“Geoff me!” there was a burr in the voice but Kurt couldn’t place it, and a man dangling by his foot from Puck’s grip, who looked big and terrifying against the dark sky. “Let me go!”  
  
“I like my midnight snacks plump and juicy,” Puck’s teeth flashed white in the moon. “Why would I want you to run? Then you’ll get all gamy.”  
  
“What are you doing?” Kurt demanded, grateful they probably couldn’t see his red face. “Let him go!”  
  
“Is that a royal decree?” Kurt whipped around to see Santana lounging on the grass on the other side of the path with another man trapped under her elbow. “Because you’re not the real Lady Prissy Pants of the Kingdom yet.”  
  
“We weren’t doing anything!” the man under her elbow was struggling but it was no use. “We was just looking around!”  
  
“Puck!” Blaine’s cry made Kurt turn quickly again to see the other dragon start blowing small tangles of fire on the man’s pant hems, watching the way it made the man dance.  
  
“I said stop it!” Kurt shouted again. “Why are you out of your tower and terrorizing my people? This is exactly why people fled the castle!”  
  
“This aren’t your people,” Santana retorted, her tone almost bored. “They’re from that fleet of ships waiting off the coast.”  
  
Whatever magical feeling had been before disappeared as a chill suddenly ran through Kurt’s blood and made his mind freeze. “The what?”  
  
He couldn’t tell if Santana delighted in dangling information over his head in principle or she was finally happen to have some kind of secret again. “The fleet of warships waiting to land. Or, oh, did you not know about them?”  
  
Kurt gritted his teeth. “You know that our security is understaffed. We barely have people patrolling the docks let along the sea.”  
  
“Oops. Must have slipped my mind. Sorry.”  
  
“I have to wake up Quinn,” Kurt turned to Blaine who was swatting at the man’s legs to douse the small flame. “Blaine, I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Blaine said, finally smacking the last of it and giving Puck a warning look. “You have an entire kingdom to look after. Let me know how I can help.”  
  
Kurt felt a ball of frustration, not at Blaine but at all the things getting in their way, and turned to glare at Santana. “Go back to the tower. You two aren’t supposed to leave.”  
  
Santana gave him a sour look. “What do you want us to do with these two?”  
  
“I could use some target practice,” Puck said, shaking the man who cried out a little as his claws dug into his ankle. “Santana, if you chuck one of them across the yard I bet I can hit him.”  
  
“In your dreams,” Santana rolled her eyes but she moved to grab her captive by his arm. Before she could wind up to throw him, ignoring the man’s babbling pleas, Kurt finally saw Brittany, clad in a flowing white nightgown jogging across the yard. Santana sighed and let him back on the ground though she kept a firm hold.  
  
“Bad Santana!” Brittany scolded, not even out of breath. “I told you guys you could look, not catch!”  
  
“You told us to protect Kurt,” Santana protested. “I saw them go for a knife. Puck, didn’t you see them go for a knife?”  
  
“Yeah,” Puck let him man drop to the ground, keeping a careful, glinting eye on him as he cowered there. “Totally.”  
  
“You told them they could leave the tower?” Kurt looked at the men wearily because though Santana and Puck were accomplished liars if Brittany told them not to touch they couldn’t unless what they said was true.  
  
“They get bored, Kurt,” Brittany stepped delicately over the flower bush to pat Santana’s neck. “And Puck is getting fat. It’s good for them to get exercise.”  
  
“I am not,” Puck growled while Santana snickered.  
  
“I told them they couldn’t hurt anyone,” Brittany went on. “They’re totally masticated.”  
  
“What?” Blaine asked confused.  
  
“Castrated,” Santana gave him a look that said if he so much as twitched into a smile she would probably do something irreparable. “And we’re not! You stupid humans have no idea what we can do, do you? If I didn’t think you’d give me indigestion I’d be picking my teeth with your femur.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Kurt felt suddenly out of the loop. The man she was holding had started to whimper again. “What do you want to do?”  
  
Santana sighed and shoved the man’s head into the grass to muffle his voice. “I mean, you’re just sitting on your pretty shiny crown waiting for your problems to solve themselves when you have two, built-in, problem solving captives here who are bored even to offer their services.”  
  
“Services?” Kurt echoed and he though Santana might just reach over and knock his head off his shoulders if he asked any more questions but he couldn’t figure out what she wanted to tell him.  
  
“These aren’t the first people to sneak over your precious walls. A dozen merry men in off-season tights aren’t exactly enough to watch all the holes in your system, offense meant little man,” she turned the last comment to Blaine who scowled and muttered with an indignant sniff, “None taken.”  
  
“There have been others?” Kurt suddenly thought of Quinn and Mercedes, servants like Sam who trusted him enough to come back into castle despite the dragons, his father and step mother sleeping unaware in their bed. “What happened to them?”  
  
Brittany had the sense to look guilty though Santana was grinning like a well fed cat. “I had Santana and Puck take them somewhere. They told me it was better if we didn’t tell you.”  
  
“Brittany, you’re supposed to be the one telling them what to do, not the other way around!” Kurt glared at Santana who just glanced away innocently. He almost felt the beginnings of a headache. On top of this he had to think about a keeper for Brittany and his resources were already stretched thin.  
  
Kurt wasn’t sure if he should comfort the girl because she looked so sad. It wasn’t her fault, after all. Kurt was the one who had decided to dump the responsibility on her without any kind of guidance.  
  
Exasperated, he turned to Santana. “What did you do with them?”  
  
“Don’t get your pantaloons in a twist. We just dumped them in your tower. We’ve  _persuaded_  them to stay there.” She smiled with too much teeth at Puck. “We may or may not be persuading them some more tomorrow.”  
  
“Santana—“ Kurt wanted to scold her but his mind was seeing a very clear picture. In fact, it was a little brilliant. However, he didn’t dare let her know. Instead he asked, “Why are you helping to protect me?”  
  
Santana rolled her eyes at that and said, “It’s not for you, it’s for the rush. It’s not like I want to eat you ground grubbers but it’s nice to at least make people think I can. Plus, there’s literally nothing else to look forward to now that you’ve given up on writing the ending to All The Sung Men.”  
  
Kurt sputtered; how did she know about his writer’s block? Still, he supposed they had been as bored as he was in the tower and sound carried from the windows. She was watching him and Kurt suddenly realized she was tense and waiting for him to do something.  
  
“Well, fine,” his tried to keep his voice firm and disapproving. “I suppose this had worked out for everyone so far. But we’re going to have to make some changes. For starters, you can’t just dump them in the tower. It’s not exactly sustainable.”  
  
“Can we toast them?” Puck asked curiously.  
  
“Of course not!” Kurt snapped. “You still can’t kill anyone either. But if you want something to do and you agree to do it our way, then, fine. We can come to some kind of arrangement.”  
  
From the way Santana was looking at him he knew she saw right through his act. However, she merely nodded and soon enough the Warbler had come to take the two men away into the castle. Santana and Puck agreed to patrol for the night and Kurt made a mental note to talk with Quinn tomorrow about the fleet of warships. Now that they had dragons,  _real dragons_ , willing to fight for them, the need to pay for an army had suddenly become less urgent.  
  
Blaine walked him back to his room even though Kurt felt he should be the one doing it because Blaine had started to limp the further they went. But Blaine was a gentleman through and through and Kurt had to put up with the gallant way he hobbled down the hallway, determined to see Kurt safely in his room now that they had already uncovered a threat in the palace.  
  
They paused at the door and Kurt turned, one hand on the edge to close it after him. They had been interrupted in the garden and for a moment Kurt wished he had spoken more clearly because there was a question he had but now it felt too heavy to ask. However, as he turned back to say good night he saw the hesitant way Blaine looked at him and it made something inside of him loosen. He smiled, Blaine’s face relaxed in a look of relief and Kurt reached out to snag the front of his tunic and pulled him into the door, shutting the door firmly behind them.

 

***

 

“ _Kurt!_ ”  
  
There was a pounding at his door and Kurt woke up with a jolt. His pillow shifted under him and it took Kurt’s brain half a second to catch up. He doubled-checked to make sure but when he saw Blaine’s already scruffy face instead of Karofsky’s he couldn’t stop his grin.  
  
Blaine, for his part, was awake but he kept his eyes closed and nudged Kurt who was still half draped over his chest. “Go see what Mercedes wants. I’m still sleeping.”  
  
“Honeymoon over then?” Kurt said dryly but the word made him a little nervous. Blaine cracked open one eye and half smiled.  
  
“She’s calling you not me.”  
  
“ _Kurt_ , you get out here or I’m just going to come in. I’ve seen the royal jewels before, don’t think I’m too embarrassed to see them again.”  
  
“I am,” Quinn’s voice had a slightly panicked edge. “Kurt, just answer the door.”  
  
“Fine,” Kurt grumbled and slipped out of bed, making sure Blaine was appropriately covered. Mercedes may have seen him bare all and it’s not like Quinn was interested but he had a sudden stab of jealousy when he thought of other people seeing Blaine. His pants had been discarded close to the bed so he pulled them on quickly, barely having time to reach for his shirt when Mercedes went through with her threat and pushed the door open.  
  
“I warned you—Oh, hi.”  
  
“Hi,” Blaine looked more alert and shifted deeper under the blankets, slightly pink.  
  
“Is he really naked—Oh, Blaine.”  
  
“Good morning, Quinn.” He had tucked the blankets under his chin and glanced helpless at Kurt. Kurt finished the ties on his shirt and snorted but he felt a warm sort of glow at having all four people in his bedroom, even if Blaine wasn’t wearing pants.  
  
“Good morning, everyone,” Kurt ushered the two girls out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him. He knew he was smiling, he knew there was probably a guilty chain of red splotches on his neck but he found himself almost wanting to show off. The two girls were looking at him speechlessly though Quinn looked far redder than Mercedes, who just gave him a knowing smirk.  
  
“I see you’re not letting the whole marriage thing hold you back,” she said in a teasing tone. Kurt was too happy, however, to rise to the bait and instead urged them down the hallway.  
  
“That’s neither here nor there. Now, what’s got you so excited this early in the morning?”  
  
“We got news back from Mercedes’s brothers,” Quinn said excitedly as she steered them towards the kitchens. “Tell him!”  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt raised an eyebrow. They passed a maid huffing over some sheets but she gave them a cheery morning greeting which they returned. “How did they get word back to you so quickly?”  
  
“They paid for a fast ship,” she waved off Kurt’s curiosity like it was nothing but it only made him want to know harder. “It’s wonderful. But I want to know about what happened with  _Blaine_  last night.”  
  
Kurt frowned as they giggled but the rest of the night suddenly caught up with him. He stopped abruptly and the smile fell from Quinn’s face. “Kurt, what is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
“Not wrong, exactly,” Kurt glanced around because suddenly the kitchens seemed far to public a space to discuss warships on the coast. “Come on, let’s go to your chambers. I almost forgot and it’s not something I want to worry people about.”  
  
Their stroll became more hurried and they made their way to Mercedes’s work room in tense silence. Once there, Kurt explained quickly what had happened the night before, leaving out any explicit details though he could tell the girls were bursting to ask. When he was through, though, Quinn was frowning thoughtfully and tapping her chin with her lace-gloved hand.  
  
“This could be good.”  
  
“Right?” Kurt agreed eagerly. “Dragon protectors.”  
  
“Do you think the people will go for it?” Mercedes frowned. “They’ve already said their piece about what they think about dragons around the castle. Is making the dragons that much more visible really something you want to do?”  
  
“Visible in the right way, though,” Quinn said. “They’re not just idling around. They’re part of the realm, right? It’s no perfect but if we keep them busy then at least they won’t get into trouble.”  
  
“We can have them take care of the fleet,” Kurt said eagerly. “I think that’s enough of a good will gesture to lure some of the families back and to have everyone else rest a bit easier.”  
  
“It’s not going to solve everything though” Quinn frowned. “We still need some other kinds of protection. A real, human army for one. And, Kurt, that’s what we were coming to tell you. Mercedes has a way to pay for one.”  
  
This time she didn’t tease. She reached for a letter, seal broken, and handed it eagerly for Kurt to read.  
  
“That’s the price they paid for a vest.  _A vest_. Imagine what this dress will cost,” she grabbed at the dress still on the stand, the dragon scales dancing together. “They’re  _magic_ , Kurt.”  
  
At that word, Kurt froze though he kept his eyes trained on the numbers Mercedes’s brothers had underlined three times on the scroll. “How do you mean magic?”  
  
“It keeps you warm when it’s cold and cold when it’s warm. Fire can’t touch the wearer. And it glowed when they passed too close to a poisoner. Can you imagine the money we could make if we sold it?”  
  
Kurt frowned because, yes, the but—  
  
“I don’t want to deal in weapons.”  
  
“We don’t have to,” Quinn took the paper from him with a wide smile. “We can make more if we hoard it.”  
  
“It’s so much more than just clothes,” Mercedes said quickly. “Quinn thought of it all. We can make medicines, protections. It could create jobs, right Quinn?”  
  
“Kurt, can’t you see?” It took Kurt a minute to process but when he did he couldn’t help but smile. “We have resource that will be in high demand but we won’t have to compete with anyone. We can dictate the market, we can dictate what happens to the money and how it’s used. We won’t have to bow down to a council anymore.”  
  
It was… brilliant.  
  
The large picture that had started to form last night in his mind was dazzling. He could see all the pieces falling into place. His grinned matched the other three girls and for the first time in a long time he felt a happiness swelling in his chest so large he wanted nothing more than to burst into a song, or a dance, or a high pitched squeal.  
  
It was gratifying when all three had the same idea and the maid outside of the door, still lugging her burden of bed clothes, jumped at the noise.  
  
“We’ll have to open a school,” Quinn said, when the excitement died down. “Magic is a lost art and we’ll need to find someone who can figure out how to use the dragon scales. Someone that isn’t busy plotting to kill us in our sleep,” she added thoughtfully at the end.  
  
“The Warblers use magic,” Kurt frowned.  
  
“The Warblers are using relics,” Quinn said. “Or they learned tricks that have been passed down. What the dragons have is original magic,  _old_  magic. Magic isn’t just created anymore. Those skills were lost a long time ago. Things like Brittany’s bracelet, your tower: no one knows how they work and certainly no one can make them again. It’s been so long since there have been things like dragons around. Eventually it’s going to run out but if we can figure out how to use the magic again,” her eyes shone brightly, “we could be a kind of peace and prosperity no one can even imagine.”  
  
“But if there’s no one who can make new magics, then what will we do?” Mercedes asked. Quinn just shrugged and Kurt nodded in agreement.  
  
“We’ll just have to carry on,” he answered for both of them. “And with a bit of luck things will work out. But for now at least we have a start.”  
  
Later, much later, (there wasn’t a council but there was still mountains of paperwork which he and Quinn attacked with a newly-charge vigor) he broke the news to his father who almost broke down in tears. He thumped hard on Kurt’s back, a tight hug that Kurt had missed so much threatening to crack the ribs of both men.  
  
“I’m so proud of you, son.” Just like that the stinging hurt of months of silence (his heart didn’t seem to care that his father had been innocent of that) was covered in a soothing balm. Though Burt and his wife were set to be back in their kingdom (Finns was in the middle of a bethrothal and he had sent messengers pleading for help with dealing with his high-strung bride-to-be Lady Berry), Kurt spend most of the time with Quinn smoothing out details. Santana and Puck easily took care of the enemy fleet and, happily, word spread quickly that the borders were still as secure as ever.  
  
Though things were on the rise, Kurt did spend a good portion of the time he wasn’t brain melding with Quinn talking Wes into taking on a more permanent position in the castle.  
  
“But,” Wes pleaded, looking at the Warblers who were happily feasting on Mama Jones’s roast beef. “The open air. The adventure.”  
  
“The sleeping in trees,” Thad wrinkled his nose.  
  
“The shallow latrines,” Ren added.  
  
“The not sharing a tent with Lester,” Nick pleaded.  
  
“It would be easier to stay,” this time it was Artie, who had long since decided to stay on with the Warblers as a tactics advisor. “I mean, think about the hot springs.”  
  
“The hot springs,” David and Thad echoed with a blissful expression.  
  
The Warblers had leaders but they were nothing less than a democracy and Wes sighed with very little regret when Kurt named the figure he planned on offering them.  
  
It was practical, he had told Quinn with a straight face while they were budgeting. They knew the Warblers, they knew their loyalty. And besides that, Wes had a rapport with Brittany and when Kurt mentioned he might still want to take some responsibility for her, he had seemed more than happy to do it.  
  
She only mentioned Blaine in the waggle of her eyebrow.  
  
Okay, so maybe he was being a little selfish with Blaine.  
  
“Ngh,” he had found a spot right below the curve of Blaine’s jaw and he loved to exploit it when he could. “Oh, God, right there, Kurt!”  
  
Nearly every night had found Blaine in his bed and he found he didn’t care what the talk was about. All he cared about was the way Blaine melted into his hands and looked at him with long lashes as they waited for the candles to burn down because neither wanted to leave the bed to blow them out.  
  
“I want—“ Blaine whined a little as Kurt played with the buckles to his pants. They had already shed their shirts in an ill-thought out plan to head to the hot spring before retiring but Kurt had gotten sidetracked with the way Blaine’s hip dimpled at the back. Blaine still had his pink communication stone around his neck and Kurt couldn’t help but tug at it with his other hand. “ _Kurt!_ ”  
  
He looked beautiful like this, pressed back on the soft down cover of their bed. Kurt dug his hands into the waist band of the pants and felt them inch down as Blaine arched up. He could feel the hard outline of Blaine’s erection against his thigh but he had learned that he liked to tease sounds out of Blaine instead of just heading straight to the end.  
  
“What?” Kurt nuzzled at the back of his ear, liking the way he could smell the clean sweat. “Did you want something?”  
  
“God, you’re such a--  _ack!_ ”  
  
Kurt found the other spot on Blaine he liked to tease. He tickled under his ribs mercilessly as Blaine kicked out, knocking Kurt on his side and turning the tables so he was the one straddling Kurt’s hips.  
  
“That was dirty,” Blaine tried to scowl. All Kurt did was look at that spot, right on the smooth skin of his waist and he saw Blaine twitch nervously.  
  
“If that’s what you think of as dirty I still have a lot to teach you,” Kurt teased and bucked his hips, rubbing his own erection against Blaine’s.  
  
Blaine leaned forward, kissing Kurt soundly and for a second Kurt wondered how he had gotten so lucky. Their pants were removed a little clumsily. Kurt didn’t really care that Blaine accidently kicked him in the knee in his eagerness, or that he had bit Blaine a little too hard on the jut of his hip as he slid off the bed and knelt between Blaine’s knees. Suddenly, watching Blaine who was leaning back on his hands, keeping his legs open with a hint over nervousness felt too far away so Kurt shouldered his way closer. He lifted Blaine’s thigh onto his shoulder, not caring about the surprised gasp except to note the way it trailed off in a whimper. Blaine let his arms give way, fall back on the bed as Kurt shifted taller, forcing Blaine’s leg close to his chest and for a moment Kurt was dizzy with the open pliability. He was grateful that he still had this, that he still wanted to do this with Blaine, and kissed just under the head of Blaine’s cock.  
  
He loved Blaine’s noises; he loved the way Blaine couldn’t seem to control the way his toes curled against Kurt’s back; he loved the taste so different that before but so worth the needy whimpers.  
  
From this angle he couldn’t see Blaine’s face, just the underside of his chin as he arched his back, one hand gripping Kurt’s shoulder and the other anchoring him to the bed.  
  
Kurt’s heart was beating so fast he felt lightheaded and he ducked his head until he kissed at the base of Blaine’s cock, feeling the clean smell of skin, sweat and boy. Blaine’s hand flew from Kurt’s shoulder to his head, fingers clumsily stroking through his hair, knocking at his ear, and made Kurt chuckle.  
  
“God, I love you,” Blaine’s voice was thick and at the words Kurt froze.  
  
“What?”  
  
“ _Blaine Warbler, we require your presence in the Great Hall._ ”  
  
The sound of Wes’s somewhat stressed voice suddenly piercing the air made Kurt jump back, looking around wildly while trying to cover himself as best as possible. Blaine on the other hand cursed and punched at the bed before he grabbed the stone now glowing faintly and snapped, “Right now?”  
  
“ _We have a situation,_ ” Wes’s voice paused on the last word. “ _Is Kurt with you?_ ”  
  
Blaine glanced at Kurt who was already starting to tug on his pants and frowned sourly. “Yes, do you want him too?”  
  
He quirked his eyebrows playfully but Kurt felt too shaken to reply. Instead, he picked up Blaine’s pants and tossed them to him.  
  
“ _Yes, please. And hurry._ ”  
  
“We’ll be there.”  
  
One of the reasons the Warblers had chosen their living quarters was because of their close location to the central part of the castle so Kurt and Blaine found themselves jogging into the Great Hall in nearly no time at all. Blaine’s foot was better, the magic of the Warbler healer finally kicking in, but the need for their rush wasn’t immediately evident when they entered the room.  
  
Wes and several of the Warblers were standing half enclosing a group of four irritated by calm looking people seated at one of the dining tables. Brittany was there as well but Wes was holding onto her unmagicked wrist with a firm grip. There were two men a woman; three of them had dark hair while the last man had a strange upward swept style with a close shave on either side of his head. One of the women was in a dark dress that Kurt realized suddenly made her to look like a practicing hedge witch. The man sitting beside her with a worried expression was tall and lanky with a family crest sown on his tunic that Kurt didn’t recognized. The other pair was clothed very simply in ill-fitting clothing and the woman gave Kurt a wicked yet eerily familiar smile.  
  
“Kurt, that’s her!” Artie was there as well, Kurt realized, and his noise was twitching wildly. “She’s the one that changed me! She ran off with that knight, you bitch!”  
  
“Hey!” the hedge witch frowned. “I only left you because you couldn’t be bothered to say two words to me when the jousting season was on! The only way I could get you to notice me was if I had a pitcher of ale in my hand or I was fetching you an autograph! Mike, he actually cares about my feelings!”  
  
“You changed me into a  _rabbit_!” Artie shouted back. “I could have  _died!_ ”  
  
“I was going to change you back,” she retorted. “It’s not my fault you ran away.”  
  
“I almost got eaten by  _dragons!_ ”  
  
The man with the oddly shaved head grinned suddenly and said, “I almost forgot about that.”  
  
The tone was different, less booming but still the same gruff half drawl in his syllables but Kurt recognized the voice easily. “ _Puck?_ ”  
  
“You humans have gotten better with that magic thing, haven’t you?” the woman sitting next to Puck said with a sharp lilt and Kurt almost found himself needing to sit as well because that was  _Santana’s_  grudging praise.  
  
“She got every detail right,” Brittany said excitedly. “Just like I asked for.”  
  
“Who?” Blaine was looking between everyone with a puzzled expression but Kurt was following the conversation all too easily.  
  
“You wished for Santana and Puck to be human?” Kurt couldn’t help but stare at the two former dragons. The resemblance was uncanny but also unnerving and when Santana smiled with her canine teeth Kurt shivered a little. “Brittany—how could you?”  
  
“I didn’t just wish for it,” she sighed. “I paid for it. You only get wishes on Solstice and I didn’t want to wait.”  
  
“They can change back,” the witch started to look nervous as she stared harder at Kurt. “Oh my God, are you the king?”  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt answered distractingly, his brain struggling to understand just  _how_  things had changed. “They can change back?”  
  
“Yes, I m-made them a b-bracelet,” the witch shot out of her seat, the Warblers tensing, but she only went to grab Santana’s hand. To Kurt’s surprise, Santana let her, a cocky smile on her face as the witch showed off the thin chain on her wrist. “It’s just a simple incantation to change them back and forth. I swear, I didn’t know they were the dragons when I sold them to her. She told me she wanted them for a role play with her girlfriend.”  
  
Kurt decided quickly that was one detail he didn’t want to filter into his Big Picture future image of the kingdom. Instead he glanced at Wes who looked disturbed and repeated, “You  _made_  it?”  
  
She nodded glumly as she went back to her chair and huddled in it.  
  
“How did you get the money?” this time it was Wes who was staring at Brittany with a strange expression. “That kind of magic, it’s not cheap.”  
  
Brittany shrugged. “I don’t know. I had a lot of money just sitting around. When Tina told me she could make Puck and Santana have lady parts I decided why not just use it. It’s not like I’ve spent it on anything.”  
  
“For the record, I don’t have lady parts,” Puck said quickly.  
  
“Those bracelets are not supposed to do that,” Tina added. Her voice was strained and she kept looking at Kurt with a pinched white look. “They’re just supposed to help people look a little… different. I made them for fun, I wasn’t ever going to sell them. It’s just that Brittany is so—“ she trailed off and shrugged helplessly.  
  
“I understand how ‘so’ Brittany can be,” Kurt sighed and rubbed at the headache starting between his eyes. “Santana, Puck—“  
  
“Don’t worry your beauty marks off,” Santana waved a delicate, human hand in his direction flippantly. “It’s not like I want to spend time in the same form as you warm blooded meat sacks. I just hate living in that tower. Now I can get a proper room and you can’t complain about us knocking down any more walls.”  
  
“Plus you should see how badass we look when we change,” Puck added helpfully.  
  
The knight sitting next to her was holding her hand tightly. Kurt looked at them, frowning for a moment before he finally recognized the Chang crest.  
  
“Are you going to execute me?” Tina’s voice was so small and frightened Kurt stared at her for a moment in disgust.  
  
“No! Of course not!” he sputtered. “I would never—Blaine, tell her that I would never do  _that_.”  
  
Blaine nodded, his eyes twinkling. “It’s true. He’s a big softie.”  
  
“That’s not true either,” Kurt grumbled. “I won’t execute you for something like this. But that kind of magic you’re using is dangerous to the kingdom.”  
  
“She knows that,” the knight said quickly. “She didn’t mean any harm. I can vouch for her good character.”  
  
“I can vouch for  _not_ , pretty boy,” Artie grumbled lowly.  
  
It was Santana who interrupted them all with an annoyed huff, though. “Can we just get on with it? I’ve got a whole new body to get exploring.” Wes gasped, horrified at her, and tugged Brittany behind him. Santana rolled her eyes. “I meant this one but, you know, I can always use a tour guide.”  
  
“As lovely as this all is,” Blaine broke in smoothly. “I think we need to decide what to do with her. Kurt, she can’t just leave. If she can do something like  _this_ ,” he gestured at Santana and Puck, the latter who was giving a cocky, ‘how-are-you-doing?’ leer at Tina who was looking skeptical and tugged the knight’s hand closer, “on a whim then she can’t just be walking around. Who knows what other kinds of things she can create? I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous to the realm’s safety.”  
  
Tina swallowed hard and nodded. “I-I understand. I-I promise, I won’t do it again. E-ever.”  
  
Kurt finally walked forward, ignoring the way the Warblers tensed when he got close and sat next to the girl, taking her other hand gently and smiled. “How would you like to keep doing it for a long time while in service to your country?”  
  
She blinked surprised and when she hesitantly gave Kurt a smile in return the final piece of the puzzle in his mind fell into place.


End file.
